


Rapacity

by Rhinocio



Series: The Hot Pursuit of Sin [1]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Hot Pursuit AU, Nonbinary Ruby, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhinocio/pseuds/Rhinocio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruby has always been an open book, blacked out with flaws, and Sapphire a closed diary, laced with lies. Somewhere between their façades, they find weaknesses - and possibilities - in each other. But the promise of what they could be together comes with a price tag. Long before they trained to rescue others, they learned to rescue themselves. Long before the safety of their desideratum, there was this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Café Cliché

**Author's Note:**

> After the huge rush of writing _Tenacity_ , with college keeping me busy, and having been inspired by _[Such Is Fate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4541610/chapters/10336446)_ and _[Queen of Cups, Knight of Swords](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4236366/chapters/9583221)_ , I wanted to try my hand at a human AU fanfiction with chapters. (I may have also just wanted to share what I write as I go instead of having to hold back spoilers until 20,000 words later, haha.) I only have a vague idea of where I'm going with this, but I figured now was a good a time as any to test the waters of a different story format. Suggestions and critiques are always welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Though most everyone is used to this by now, heads up: I use "they/them/themself" pronouns for Ruby. I like having the representation and easily divisible pronouns between two female characters. This was decided before _Keystone Motel_ confirmed their use of "she/her/herself". Autocorrect and I are constantly fighting each other about it, but the dictionary (and Crewniverse) says I can. 
> 
> This chapter series takes place earlier on in the loaves' lives, before the events of _Concupiscence_ , and will be much less explicit. I had originally wanted to use this as a canvas for depicting realistic LGBTQ+ couples and relationships, but it's very quickly turning into a sort of queer-rage-against-the-status-quo dialogue with terribly metaphorical romanticism. Also, I believe this is going to eventually embody the same kind of thing I hate reading: that Why Can't I Be Straight trope so overwhelmingly commonplace in gay fiction. Apparently one either crashes like a comet or writes long enough to see themself become a space invader to their own people. I am so sorry.
> 
> The cliché of this beginning and the story as an overall (plus another Hot Pursuit installment in the works, aha) were heavily inspired by Mary Lambert's music, especially the songs _Sum of Our Parts_ and _She Keeps Me Warm_. Please check out her work if you haven't already - she's absolutely phenomenal.

  


_This is my skin that I've never fit in  
I was born the queen of nowhere  
This is how it begins_

Ruby had never enjoyed the rain. For one, there was a humidity that nearly always accompanied its appearance, and it sent tendrils of their curls into hysterics. For another, Beach City's rain was never just a drizzle – no, it was a veritable soak, half derived from thick grey clouds and half from the spray of the ocean. It was warm and stifling when it first dropped onto a person's head or slapped them sideways across the face, and then cooled in the following wind, so the poor soul that had been rained upon felt as though they'd run a sweaty marathon through an ice storm. One couldn't dress properly for weather like that. Ruby had tried wearing cotton shirts, so the water would dry away faster, but it only left them furious and shivering at the bus stop. Waterproof jackets became sticky on the inside; knit sweaters held onto the droplets like a shimmering spiderweb and quickly acquired a smell like wet dog. To add insult to injury, as was said, there was that unidentifiable emotional weight that followed the clouds and sent the majority of the populace into melancholy. Whatever fool decided rain was nice clearly lived somewhere sunny. It was miserable, and Ruby couldn't understand the sentiment of soggy days being “cozy”.

The most pitiful feature of those brainwashed folk that considered the weather pleasant was their collective idea that an overcast day was best spent curled up in a local coffee shop, reading _Hides and Hegemony_ or some other antiquated novel that the reader likely was using more to pose whilst they sipped an overpriced latte and scoped for dates than to escape with. There was an entire sentiment to the image, and thousands of online sites had photography that captured the fantasy: whimsical, earthy paintings and low, orangey-hued lighting, teas decorated with steamed milk and cinnamon, old high-backed chairs (that would have seen more than a few public farts deposited into them) with too many pillows, and thin women with long dark hair, their outfits a hodgepodge of layers collected from the local consignment shop, dreamily scrawling their free-spirited thoughts into handmade leather notebooks. 

The reality was hardly as decorated. The entire venue Ruby chose was packed to the gills, bloated with the murmur of acquaintances gossiping like they'd been friends for years, the soft lilt of off-tune indie ballads, the whir of coffee grinders, and the shouts of baristas trying to interpret the orders of customers who couldn't take three seconds to pop their headphones off or hang up on the phone conversation with their mothers. Though the décor presented chocolate brown walls and copper door handles, the plastic napkin dispensers and myriad of brightly-coloured trash bins stood like sentries of a warped mood. The indoor air was nearly as muggy as the streets had been. Truly, the place wasn't as rosy as advertized, and not Ruby's scene at all. It had only been frustration at the excessively leaky ceiling and noisy, rhythmic plink of the pipes in their basement apartment that had driven them to seek out a different location to study in. After the wet walk to the local café with a heavy textbook weighing down one of their shoulders and their umbrella whipped inside out by the wind, there was a hint more undiluted anger prompting them to vent their feelings of the situation on the fellow who happened to be taking up useful ass-space in a corner cubby to scroll through Groundr on his phone. 

“You don't need a table to browse tit-pics, buddy,” they snapped, giving the chair leg a swift boot. Their small stature might not have been intimidating, but the heavy, unblinking glare they gave the indignant teenager seemed to make him second-guess making an argument about it. Cursing under his breath, he stood, stuffed his phone in his pocket, and elbowed his way free of the seat. Ruby didn't miss the underhanded “dyke” comment as he passed, and strangled their bag strap, gritting their teeth against the comeback that had readied itself on the tip of their tongue. This would not be a good place to start a fight, Ruby, they chided themself, no matter how little effort it would take to bend the thin man into a pretzel and shove him in the pastry case. Swallowing the heat of their fury, they dropped their knapsack and its contents unceremoniously on the low wooden table, threw off the small wading pools of their sneakers, and draped their slick coat over the back of the chair to dry. Eventually the overworked baristas would need to be presented with an order and allowed to steal more than a few dollars from their already tight wallet (or ask Ruby to leave), but for the moment, they had claimed a free slot in the cramped, steamy building, and had traded edgy silence for the white noise of coffee shop havoc. Sighing, they yanked their thick textbook open and restarted the chapter they'd been unable to focus on at home.

Coffee shops, as luck would have it, had their own distractions. 

“That can't be your real name!” squealed one of the brewers – probably a new hire, Ruby thought, because the regular employees had accepted long ago that some of their sillier patrons were going to request “Mister Universe” or “MC McBearBear” be written on their cups instead of their actual titles. As long as everyone knew who owned what, there was no harm or reason to argue the demand. Ruby languidly glanced towards the counter to see what poor soul had had the spotlight shone on them thanks to the giggling barista, and suddenly forgot to keep their muscles alive; their pen clattered from their hand and onto the floor. At the front of the line, a small, curvy woman with a long braid of caramel-coloured hair was shaking her head, quietly trying to diminish the gushing of, “No way, that's so pretty!”

She was mesmerizing to watch. Her long skirt spun around her thin legs like the cascades of a fountain as she bobbed from foot to foot, arms daintily tucked up by her chin, hesitant and fidgety. She had embraced the bookworm aesthetic of the rainy day dreamers, looking almost as though she had pulled her clothes from an old lady's yard sale, but with enough polishing to come off as elegant instead of outdated. Her placating, embarrassed smile as she took hold of a mug and saucer for tea was beautiful. When she turned, holding the vessel and plate out as though a table were going to materialize in front of her waiting hands, Ruby decided that, despite the internal debate their memories were having, they were going to provide.

“Hey, Pretty Name Girl!” they shouted, waving an arm until she jolted in recognition, then dropped to reach for their fallen pen. When they'd resurfaced, she was still standing in the same place, bangs scrubbing back and forth on her cheeks as she fervently searched the room for an escape. Something in Ruby's stomach momentarily clenched, ready to berate them for the advance, but before the raw burn of self-depreciation could take hold, the woman slunk towards them. She laid her drink on the table carefully, and sat herself with a brush of her skirts. There was a pause. The woman pulled her braid over one shoulder and fidgeted with the curly end of it; her dark cheeks were flushed.

“Um, hey,” Ruby grinned, tapping their hands on their open textbook, “Been a while.”

“I guess so,” the woman agreed, her face downcast. The white noise of the café filled the space their words did not, obnoxiously cheerful in the face of their awkwardness. Ruby had never been the type to reach out and flirt in a public setting – at least, not during the day and in a place so blatantly... what term should they use? Straight. Not straight-edge, for the group of students opposite their corner were very obviously rolling joints, but non-queer. Ruby had determinately kept their extroversion under wraps in places where their classmates could see them flirting with the same sex; their preferences were no secret, but comments were inescapable, frequent, and unkind. It was easier to avoid the potential than clean up after the brawls, truth be told. However, the universe was offering them something here, and they could tell it was a chance not to be refused – they knew this woman, and she had come to the coffee shop alone, and sat with them, without a digital distraction. Who did that? 

“What'ja get?” they prompted, jerking their chin at the blue teapot and cup she had planted between them. She shrugged.

“Rooibos,” the woman mumbled, and poured a small sample for display. Ruby craned their neck to watch the steaming red liquid fall, and nodded a few times, the gears of their mind turning feverishly in their search for an ice-breaker. “I like things with heat to them.”

“Not me, I'm already too hot for that,” they said, then gestured robotically and quickly added, “I mean, like, temperature-wise. Literally. I'm a furnace. Eternal flame, baby. Summer's awful.” The woman nodded curtly.

“You must like days like this, then,” she allowed, digging into her purse for a small novel. Ruby cursed the action, knowing it was a cue for them to stop harassing her. 

“Can't stand them,” they made a face at the windows, and the woman followed their gaze, her movements momentarily paused. 

“Mm,” she murmured, “They're lonely.”

“Is that why you come here? Can't get more crowded than a university-local java stop.”

“Lonely and alone are different,” she said, then bit her lip and waved her book at Ruby. The black cover held no depiction save a spattering of gold foil stars and an embossed title that read _Tenacity_. “I'm going to read now.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, go ahead,” they stumbled, scratching their neck and giving their textbook a gentle slap, “I've gotta study anyway. Enjoy your tea.”

The woman pulled the little blue place-keeper from her novel, and Ruby swore silently at the paragraphs in their own. They had hoped – though it wasn't hope, really, just a curiosity derived from a “what if” – that perhaps the Princess, as they'd been thinking of her as, would be willing to branch out of her social class given their recent freedom from the confines of public education. There were fewer social cliques outside of high school, after all, and the two of them had already breached the rules of their teenage castes and spoken before. In fact, they had spent a solid three hours talking at the edge of a pier, watching the sun rise over the ripples of a quiet lake, and Ruby had laid down some solid advice on how to deal with a hangover, something the pretty woman would need shortly thereafter. Sure, she had disregarded their existence the moment the party host called for a full attendee clearout of her yard and house, and Ruby had scarcely been able to encourage a glance from those stunning blue eyes of hers up until the night of graduation, but one would think that a good hour of lip-locking would garner at least a nostalgic smile from time to time.

Ruby had doubted, for a while, their read on the pretty woman. What had once been exasperated indifference at her high-society life morphed into a kind of curious fixation. She dressed modestly and with a flair for femininity, with a wardrobe of pastels and pleats. Her long, light hair (it was dyed, it had to be) always laid in gentle spirals against her dark skin, tucked up into ponytails and buns and braids; even the overgrown bangs that shadowed her eyes lay as though their placement were intentional. She spent her time between classes gossiping (well, listening, more so) with other girls, and was never unpolite to the boys that flirted with her. Even now, sitting with perfect posture, her ankles crossed, sipping tea with her pinky curled free of the cup, she appeared nothing less than a lady, engrossed in a romantic novel and imagining her own Prince Charming.

Every inch of her blinded Ruby's gaydar like the glare of headlights in the black of night, but they couldn't accept what their eyes told them to understand, not when their lips could still taste her. They had traced the sweeping curves of her hips, now hidden under the waves of her secondhand attire, and delighted in the soft ripple of the fat that padded her. Raised stretchmarks had ribbed her thighs, pale lightning bolts in the shy gaze of the dawn, and they could still hear her embarrassed murmurs of apology about them. The scratch of the sequins on her dress had thrilled their fingers almost as much as the silk of her tresses, tangled between them and catching on Ruby's curls. She had grabbed them with ferocity, but she was too cute to smother, and too young in the world of the queer to convince Ruby to touch her with anything but delicacy, though the drunken moaning between her kisses had demanded more. The memory of her body wouldn't leave them, and objected to the visual evidence with a vigor that nearly burnt them. Perhaps it was the alcohol that had built the scenario, and perhaps she was the one exception to Ruby's experience in the difference between a woman making out with them for the attention of a boy and one there solely for the feel of their tongues intertwined, but, at the very least, their conversation had been fun, and Ruby liked the idea of having another.

“It can't be comfortable, sitting like that,” they tried again, and the woman looked up as though she'd been jabbed; her book folded in on itself, her page lost. Ruby smiled and gestured to their own posture, perched sideways with their legs loped across on of the arms of their chair. “Y'gotta relax, y'know? Get lazy. Let the rain chill you out.”

“I'm comfortable like this,” she demurred, though shyly, and Ruby swore they saw her eyelashes flicker across their form. Encouraged, they dropped their textbook onto the table and patted their thighs.

“Okay, that's bullshit, nobody sits like that without neck cramps and their butt going to sleep. This is the way to go, though. College freshmen got this right, trust me. It's like being carried in somebody's arms, only with ass-cushioning.” The ghost of a smile twitched at the woman's lips. “C'mon, I dare you. If it's not as comfy as I promise you it will be then I'll sit your way and we can both be stiff tomorrow.”

The woman set her teacup down, and placed her book squarely in front of her. She paused, glanced behind herself as if someone were standing ready to condemn her for the action, and then, with the smile carefully blossoming, gently swung her legs up onto the arm of her own chair. Her long skirt tumbled like a curtain from where her lean ankles lay perched, framing the shape of her thighs and giving her the air of a queen upon a throne. Her thin fingers intertwined daintily across her knees, head lolling back and braid draping her shoulder. Ruby stared, momentarily forgetting themself.

“Happy?” she asked, staring at them expectantly. Ruby jumped.

“Is your butt happy?” they retorted, and her smile broken into a silent, toothy giggle for a fraction of a second, hidden behind the curl of her hand. She took another swift look around the café and pressed her knuckles against her lips – when she turned back, the expression had been erased. She nodded, and one side of her mouth twitched, and Ruby felt warmth bubble up in their gut. They thunked their head on the chair arm and gazed out the window, textbook neglected. Minutes ticked by, almost lazily, watching the steam curl from the woman's tea, the soft breathing of their chests, slowly matching in rhythm, and the contented drumming Ruby was doing with their fingers. The conversation of the other patrons came to a crescendo and then quieted, as if prompting the women to speak once more.

“Y'ever wonder what parents are thinking when they name their kids?” Ruby asked, turning to look at their companion, who had apparently been watching them the whole time. She peered at them blankly, and they gestured towards her with a sweeping hand. “Like, it's pretty, but why 'Sapphire'?”

“Stone of the holy,” she said quietly, with a methodical lilt that hinted at rehearsal, “Of wisdom, faith, and divine favor. Bestowed upon the lucky as a talisman of protection and good fortune. My father gave my mother a sapphire ring when they were engaged, because they're symbols of love and commitment.” 

The burlier woman stared, and the reply fell from their lips as if pushed by their disbelief: “My mom called me 'Ruby' 'cause she met a stripper with the name and thought it was cute.”

Sapphire turned away, her hands cupped over her lips, smothering her grin and burying it in the cushioned back of her seat. Warmth flushed through Ruby's cheeks, pleased and mildly abashed. There was something especially entertaining about making the woman smile, likely because they had hardly seen her do it. Their interest in her after Peridot's party, as their friend Io had reprimanded them, came off as somewhat creepy, but they scarcely had time except between classes to study her, and the quest of curiosity had unfortunately demanded a bit of spying from behind lockers and lingering at the bathroom sink. Sapphire was as stoic as she was beautiful. Ruby could count on one hand the amount of times she had seen the thin woman's pert lips turn upwards, and had never once heard her laugh. If stalker-like tendencies were what it took to learn how to make the woman giggle, then they felt the action was, all in all, justified. Ruby scratched their neck, watching her compose herself.

“I have no idea what rubies symbolize,” they admitted, “Probably something dumb. Stone of the sinners, of bombed math tests and bad jokes. Bestowed upon the unlucky as a reminder to eat their vegetables and not do drugs.” 

Sapphire huffed, fighting another smile. She grabbed her tea and buried her mouth in the mug, taking a slow breath. When she resurfaced, she had become again the picture of poise, elegant and silent, her face a mask unreadable. She considered, then said, “Maybe it's a gem of chances.”

The world paused. Ruby watched a single raindrop trickle across the glass, halting periodically in its travels as if it, too, were ruminating on what she had said. Responses alternated on their tongue, trying and rejecting the space like a square peg trying so many shaped holes, unsure of how to react. Was that a jab at them? No, she couldn't know their unsavory history; she had avoided them like the plague even before that night on the pier. Was she being rude, because she was “giving them a chance” by coming over to sit? She hadn't looked that upset about the offer of a spot, even if things were a unique degree of awkward between them, and she was playing along with their foolishness. Was she _flirting_?

“Chances like th-” Ruby jumped from their seat, shoving a hand into their bag and fishing for their wallet, vehemently looking beyond the woman, “-at space in line right there?! S'cuse me, be right back, gotta buy me some grub!” Words garbled as they quickly squeezed between the chair and table, throat thick. Their mind fluttered along with their pulse, both delighted and disbelieving, but absolutely needing a minute to think. Their index finger tapped frantically against their wallet, even as they jolted to a stop just past Sapphire's chair and thought to ask, “Uh, did you want anything?”

The woman was silent, her gaze far away. She shook her head, and her braid tapped the chair in a quiet one-two of Morse code. N-O. The tag of her tea bag had been fidgeted into a tiny ball.

“Okay, cool, be right back!” their voice squeaked on the last syllable, and Ruby took their jerky walk of shame to the end of the quickly-moving queue. They scratched a chewed nail into the leather case in their hand, and nibbled the inside of their cheek. There was no way. Well, no, that wasn't true – there was a whole three hours of “way” that involved a soft body pressed into theirs, sprawled on the wood of a dock, that resounded through their brain with the enthusiasm and accent of a surfer (“ _Way_ , dude, totally!”). But they had pushed the idea of any sort of follow-up to that night into the pit of Never Going To Happen, already piled with desires of being the girl their mother always wanted and making grades higher than a bare pass. There was no sense to it, that was the problem. Sapphire was lovely, and shy, and strikingly heterosexual (or one of the mystical lipstick lesbians everyone insisted must exist, though Ruby had long since stopped believing that), and had to be just making normal conversation like women did. That couldn't have been flirting. Maybe she was into astrology, and had read something about chances in Beach City's gem-themed daily horoscopes. Did that mean she had a July birthday, or was she close to someone else who did? Nobody remembered what the newspaper said about other zodiacs, unless they applied to somebody important – did Sapphire have a boyfriend? A best friend? If Ruby did something weird, was she going to spend her night laughing with one of the girls from high school over the phone in her pink bedroom like a modern-day filming of _Pretty In Rose_? Had Ruby already been too weird? Were they doomed to being gossiped about, mocked in the usual, “You're so pretty, even that lesbo wanted you,” way? Why did the idea even bother them? What if-

“What would you like?” the barista shouted, her voice barely audible past the angry whir of the nearest grinder, and Ruby fell back into reality with a jolt. They shook their head, scouring the entirety of the busy counter space, unprepared for the question. Young adults whizzed by behind the cashier, their various lengths of dreads and braids tied up into ponytails and half-buns, piercings flashing the red lights of the screaming timers around them. One was carrying a tall drink buried in whipped topping, and another folding a box of doughnut holes closed. Ruby tapped their free hand against their leg frantically, and quickly scanned the display case.

“Uh, h-how about whatever that thing is- wait, no, um, the banana bread. Can I get two slices of that?”

“Anything to drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” they agreed blindly, preoccupied with the mildly irate sighing the man behind them was doing, “Oh, shit, um, I mean, what've you got that's hot? Err, and maybe chocolatey? Look, just hook me up with whatever you're gonna throw out soon, I'm not picky.”

“So hot chocolate,” the barista said slowly, eying Ruby over her glasses. The short woman's balance shifted as they began fishing out cash, toes taking up the restless tap. _Thunk-thunk-thunk._

“Fine, yeah. Let's do it. What do I owe you, my firstborn?” 

“Eight dollars and fifteen cents. What's your name?”

“Just draw a square on the cup,” Ruby grunted, throwing down a ten and flicking their wallet shut, “I'm not going anywhere. Nobody needs to call for me.” They quickly shuffled free of the register, snatched up the brown paper bag that was handed to them, and kicked the metal plating on the counter base with their foot until a rather grumpy-looking bartender handed them their drink. True to request, the cardboard cup had a harsh square scribbled onto it, though someone had thought it funny to add extra lines for three-dimensional effect and write “Cubeular” underneath it. 

_Chaa_ , agreed the surfer in Ruby's head.

They took a moment, cup perched on the seasoning station (cinnamon Ruby could understand as a topping, and maybe even sprinkles, but fennel?), to compose themself. They took a couple slow breaths, willing their hands to stop fasciculating, and threw a chunk of banana loaf into their mouth. She wasn't flirting, they assured their nerves, just talking like she would to her girl friends. Probably. Sapphire obviously wanted to keep some distance between today and what had happened at Peridot's – that was fair. Mostly. Ruby wasn't going to take the mild rejection as a flat out decline for friendship, though, even if it meant they only said hi in coffee shops. Something about her was too interesting to let go of. With a steadying huff, Ruby snatched up their drink and made for the table.

Thunder rumbled outside, like the audio track to the dread in their gut. 

She was gone.


	2. What Light Through Yonder Window

_I wonder, is this your life?_  
_Were you raised in deep water?  
Are they pushing you down?  
Are you gonna push harder?_

“I'm home!”

“There's my Sapphire. What's it like outside?”

“Awful, mama,” the young woman shouted, making sure she could be heard with her face half-buried in the hall closet, “It's pouring like you wouldn't believe!” Her hair slapped her cheek in agreement, its soaked, curling ends dripping rain and springing back into shape after each droplet. She hung her jacket off to one side of the bar to spare her family's coats the same wet carnage it had suffered, and flipped her shoes upside down to let the pools inside them drain. She shook her purse, spattering the doormat with water, and held it far from her body as she dashed up the stairs. Her nylons made her feet slip on the downy white carpet (kept as immaculate as the coal-coloured masks her mother had hung on the walls, always gazing forlornly at her), and shivers flit up her spine at the familiar tickle. Something with kick was being prepared down the hall – she could smell the spice. There was murmuring from the kitchen, and a distinct, “You gonna say hi to your baby girl or not?”

“Hi to my baby girl!” her father called, and Sapphire smiled at the dry thwack of a wooden spoon striking his arm. Her parents were as routine as the changing of the seasons.

“Hi, daddy. I'm not done reading, so I'm going to be in my room. You'll keep mama from burning the house down, won't you?”

“Lord knows I'll try,” came the laugh, rich and warm, and she let the sound chase her up the staircase, imagining she were still small enough to be scooped up in her father's thick arms, the crinoline of her ice princess dress glittering around her wiggling legs like a poofy heap of snow. She dashed down the upstairs hall, skidding the final few feet to her bedroom door, and launched her bag onto the floor in the same motion with which she entered. Contents spilled out haphazardly; a tube of lipstick rolled under the dresser. Sapphire let her feet slid from under her and twisted awkwardly to shut the door. Her thumb pressed the lock in with a resounding click, and she collapsed like an overgrown rag doll into the pale sea of the carpet. The memory of her childhood was left outside, her mortification too strong a barrier to allow its entry.

Her breath made the rug fibres wiggle, and she whined quietly at them, pretending she was half an inch high and buried in their density – her monocular vision made the perspective all the more believable. Things were easier when you were small; people went around you when you were troublesome, and brushed off your foolish actions as inexperience, and let you stay nearby without asking you to do much but look presentable. If only her small (as in petite) stature had garnered the same custom as being small (as in young). She reached blind hands into her wet hair and unwound the braid, then snapped the elastic into the far corner. Her fingers found the pinching top of her tights, and Sapphire thrashed until she was free of them, too involved in her stubbornness to sit up and make the process easier. Those found their own spot in the room, and were left entangled with the coral-coloured panties that she had embarrassedly realized were damp for a reason separate of the monsoon outside.

A thousand “you shouldn't have”s were beating her skull from the inside, as they had on her bus ride home, quiet but unyeilding, dancing angry waltzes with “why did you”s. Sapphire buried her face into the plush floor, reciting “because, because” to the staples that held it down. She had acted on impulse, too enchanted by the idea of imitating the romance of her book, too mesmerized by the quirk and humor of the girl with the pretty brown eyes, and too enraptured with the memory of how their lips had tasted, and how easy it would have been to straddle their hips as they lay across the arms of their chair and run fingers through their curls and- 

She shuddered, pulling her hands free of the carpet she had been so intensely petting. Sapphire rolled onto her back and folded her arms together, tucking her palms into her armpits. Self-depreciation sat like a heavy gremlin upon her chest, making her lungs hurt. It should have been harder to scribble her number on that little strip of paper and leave it behind for Ruby to find – she'd spent many more often a time hesitating and debating doing the same for boys after beach-side bonfires. With them, every number had to be perfectly, deliberately drawn, not scratched with ferocity and shaking fingers. On those, she had used a pink pen, not stolen blue, and written her name with long, flowing cursive, dotting the I with a heart, not scrawled so incomprehensibly that it could be read “S-triangle-hueeee”. She had been patient, and polite, and flirtatious in a way that said, “Perhaps, if you're good, if I'm ready, if we're careful,” not, “God, if only you'd kissed me harder, you were so sweet, why were you sweet, you could have wrecked me and I'd have loved every second.”

She had tried to blame it on the alcohol. The friends that had noticed her swollen lips and disheveled hair as they piled into Eme's dew-frosted car in the early morning were more than willing to encourage that idea, after all. She'd gotten drunk – _way to go, Sapphire, you couldn't be a good girl forever_ – and found herself a cute football player to snog. _No, it was that redhead from algebra, wasn't it? He'd be giving you side-eyes for months! No, no, it was someone you didn't know, that's why you've been so quiet, you're embarrassed. It's okay if he copped a couple feels of you, that's what boys do, and you're hot, can you blame him? Lucky guy, those were virgin lips!_ Sapphire had kept silent on the ride home, shaking her head and smiling apologetically, not daring to open her mouth and contradict a single word, though the commentary had made her sick to her stomach. Flashes of images of the night appeared in her mind's eye like the streetlights they drove under, blinking just as quickly in and out of existence. The roaming hands that had brushed her numbed skin in the halls of Peridot's house, what could have been in the drinks she had mindlessly stolen and chugged, the loss of her companions so quickly after arriving, too busy with their own flirting to coddle the young woman so very new to such a scene... admittedly, things could have gone much worse for her. 

But an omniscient being of the cosmos had been watching out for her, undoubtedly, and had murmured the insistence of a trip to the lake shore that had saved her from potentially cruel fates. Someone had slapped her behind as she stumbled out the sliding doors onto the patio, and a handful of couples had keened at her from the hot tub, encouraging her company even though she hadn't brought a bathing suit. A tiny bead of anxiety settled in her throat, muffled by the buzz in her brain, and by the time she had scuffed her way across the yard, occasionally pausing to watch a moth flit free of the overgrown grass, the feeling had morphed into an indignant rage. Why did she have to play the part of a woman looking for love, and dress in her fanciest clothes, makeup painted carefully across her blemishes, when she wanted nothing less than for all the interested suitors to take a hike? Her friends and the world expected her to look a certain way, and act in a specific manner, and spend her life aspiring to make good grades, exercise, and meet and marry the perfect man. But she knew, oh god, she _knew_ her interest in the male gender was minuscule, and that anyone interested in hooking up while intoxicated was more intrigued by the idea of her naked flesh than her passion for poetry and the stars. She would be so much better off if she were to avoid people entirely and never date, though her stack of romantic literature at home argued that was the last thing she truly wanted. What she did want, she couldn't have – what she was offered made her uneasy. It was a conundrum of the worst kind.

She had been struck with momentary fear when she realized her intended destination held another body, hardly visible as a silhouette in the icy glare of the moon, but used her anger as fuel; _fuck you, mister,_ she had thought, staggering down to the end of the dock and downing what was left in her red plastic cup, _you can't have me. I go where I please and belong to myself._ As it had turned out, the resident hadn't been a man at all, nor as rude to her as her internal commentary had been vice versa.

Ruby hadn't been impressed with her. Had Sapphire been sober enough to listen to herself, she would have seconded the opinion. But oh, they had been so kind. So kind, and so, so good-looking. A hateful voice told her she was being no different than the boys on the deck, reaching out and pressing her lips to parts of the burly woman as if she had a right to, but Ruby had embraced her instead of pushing her away. Gentle, wide hands had taken her wrists and untangled them from their neck, and they had let her rest her head on their broad collarbone, murmuring, “Hey, you've been drinking. I don't think you want to be doing this.”

Their skin was so soft, and salty with the dampness of the water. She wanted desperately to transcribe the curves of their shoulders and chest, more muscularly built than she had ever seen a girl's body, bare and sparkling in the moonlight because she'd startled them into the lake and they had started to wring their shirt dry. Some quiet sense in the back of her mind agreed with them – _I can't do this, someone's going to catch me, I'm going to be called awful names and disowned by my friends_ – but impulse had been spiked inside her like the juice in her drink, and vetoed the decision. She bit the skin of their neck softly and whimpered.

“Sapphire, right? I'm serious,” the hands on her arms clenched carefully, “This isn't a good idea.”

“What's your name?” she mumbled, fingers twitching in their larger grasp and wondering what it would feel like to have their palm wrapped in hers. They sighed.

“Ruby.”

“That's beautiful,” she gasped, choking on a sudden wave of emotion, and glanced up at them. Ruby. The word made her think of the heat of a fireplace and lilt of jazz, of the dark hills of a country town at night. Of the sharp spices in her mother's cooking, clove and paprika. Of glittery crimson gowns under dim chandeliers, and the comfort of a scratchy blanket against the chill of a draft. It was undeniably girlish, yet rough enough to sound dangerous. It suited them. The body before her, no taller than she, was stocky and thick, with sharp-cut curves. Their hair stood in haphazard spirals, wild and fearless. Their nose was wide, and lips thin. Yet their eyes were like dark chocolate, molten warm, searching her face with something between concern and curiosity, long lashes fluttering, and their voice was high and faint. Their mouth scrunched to one side.

“So are you,” they countered, and the warmth of their words ignited something within her that burnt the anger in her throat away. Her eyes stung, and she reached desperately to kiss them; Ruby conceded, cupping her cheek as though she were fragile. Their warm palm had held her waist, tucking her softly against them, never once daring to grope. Her fingers tangled around the straps of their bra, careful not to pull. She licked at the heated colours of their mouth, trying to convey the drunken cycle of her thoughts: _that's so pretty, you're so pretty._

When she had become too insistent and lost her balance, they had guided her fall as if it were an intentional part of a dance, and had laid at her side, checking that she was still conscious and brushing her hair from her face. They hadn't flinched when they saw her deformed eye, nor mentioned anything about the makeup she was sure had been smudged. Sapphire stared up at them, disbelieving. They were too good. Too kind. She had never before even acknowledged this person, and knew nothing of their origins. Did they go to the same school? Were they even real? Was this some inebriated fantasy she had created to save herself from the reality of something worse? She grasped frightened fingers into their curls and kissed them as hard as she could manage, begging protection, and Ruby remained ever soft, tracing her legs and cradling her head. No one was this sweet – especially not teenagers with alcohol in their guts, presented a woman in a tiny dress, sprawled across the ground below them. Never once did their hands touch what was not already exposed. The single mark they had left on her neck had faded into nothing by the following morning. They returned her kisses, but in between had been inquisitive – _have you ever watched the sun come up? When's your birthday? Is this okay? These are nice; why are you apologizing? Are you afraid of the dark? Do you run? Haven't you ever been to a party before?_

Somewhere between their first words and the light of the morning, they had laughed together. About what she could no longer remember, but the tone had echoed across the lake like a rousing chime for the sleeping world. They had spoken more as their kisses lessened, and Ruby had beamed down at her with a grin that made her suddenly shy of her former actions. She had tucked her hands close, preventing their grappling, and watched the other woman talk, entranced. There were stories about a cat, about math class and ambition. A handful more questions, and compliments of her looks. The deep chestnut eyes with their long lashes swept over her flushed smile, and wide fingers had brushed across her forehead, as if wiping away the sounds of its owner's voice. _Something from nothing,_ her memory decreed. She had lost the words but recalled the emotion. 

“O blessed, blessed night, I am afeared,” Sapphire murmured to the carpet, her eyes finally opening to the stucco of the ceiling, mind pulled free of its tender memory and inspired by the play she had acted in during her final few months of school, “Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial.”

She thought of the slip of paper stuffed in their textbook, poking out and begging for attention, just as she had. She thought of the pages of her novel, dramatic romance from basic conversation, creating desire out of what should have been simple friendship. She thought of her gullibility, and naïve want of that fantasy of a metaphorical phoenix from ashes. Sapphire covered her face with her hands and groaned. The rain splattered her bedroom window, a sharp mockery of Ruby's finger-twitching in the café. _Tak-tak-takkity-ta-kak,_ it laughed, _you took that flattery seriously._


	3. I Need A Hero

_This heart's been sleeping for months_  
_This heart can't wait to see you  
This heart doesn't wanna convince you that  
This heart will not collapse _

Three days later, Ruby was still pissed.

The banana bread had been good, but much too dense. It had clogged up their throat and made their tongue slimy for a full hour after ingestion, which Ruby was sure wouldn't have been the case if they hadn't had to eat an extra serving. The hot chocolate was, much to their dislike, comprised of dark cocoa, and unsweetened, and had some funky, gritty aftertaste that made them wonder if some of that bizarre fennel topping had been sprinkled in the bottom ( _something_ had been, upon investigation, and Ruby had shot a furious stink-eye at the grumpy bartender that had handed to to them, as if to ask, _you too, asshole?_ ). Sapphire's cup and saucer had been left half-drunk, and the tea in the pot had gone cold. There was no sign of her save a single long hair trapped on the worn velvet of her chair; even the warmth of her body had left it. Ruby only knew this because they'd sat down to see things from her point of view, wondering what they might have missed when they found no note explaining why she'd run off so hurriedly. Had someone called her and informed her of an emergency? Had she needed to dash for the last bus home? Was she suddenly hit with bowel problems or flatulence? Had she bled on her skirt? Ruby had mocked her straight-back position, scratching their nails against their jeans, reaching for reasons, but eventually had to admit that, more than likely, they had just done something wrong and scared her off.

The sigh that fell from their lungs was unnecessarily heavy. Ruby had thrown themself back into their own seat and gathered up their textbook, ready to commit once again to studying, but the words upon the page, ever dry, mocked them. They found focus impossible, their brain as wrapped up in the mystery of Sapphire's departure as their finger was the long blond lock she'd left behind. Tangling a hand through their hair and propping their elbow on the chair arm, Ruby lazily highlighted words in their book to form sentences.

_When... she... speaks... burns... the... witnesses. Dangerous... to... them. Use caution. Let the... officers... burn... this is... necessity. Know when... to... surrender a... n... officer._

Only when their eyes began to fog with angry tears did they throw down the pen and let their head lull back over the chair arm, groaning. Nothing in Ruby wanted to admit it, but they were hurt. Sure, worse had happened with other women – there was that one night they'd slammed the taxi door and accidentally broken their dance partner's fingers – but they couldn't think of a single action that might have provoked Sapphire's escape. She had been smiling, and even laughed, and not in that fake way women did when they were trying to get an overly enthusiastic admirer to back off. She'd played along with their foolishness, and they'd had a decent conversation going. Maybe Ruby had offended her, somehow. Maybe they should have just let her read her book and appreciated her appearance from across the table. Maybe she had just suddenly realized she was flirting with the resident queer, and had gotten embarrassed – that wouldn't have been anything new. But she wasn't flirting, they chastised themself, just talking. 

_Maybe she was embarrassed just talking to you,_ their brain replied.

Suddenly the café had seemed all the louder, the bitter aftertaste of the hot chocolate that much more pungent, and the anxiety that had quietly been nagging at Ruby's chest grew a serrated edge that drove them to dig their fingernails into their arm as a distraction. Clamping their eyes shut, Ruby took four slow, heavy breaths, then slammed their textbook closed, and fled the coffee shop before the soup of emotion swirling in their gut had the chance to manifest itself physically. 

Their apartment remained as unfriendly as before – damp, bare, and smelling mildly of mildew – and just as unhelpful in aiding their studying. Ruby had decided then to call it a day; they had brewed a mug of tea, laden with sweetener, and spent time mindlessly flipping through a raunchy magazine Io had left on the living room table (which was, admittedly, a table only in the most basic of senses – milk crates and a sheet of plywood weren't soon going to win any interior decorating awards). The dusk had barely begun to set in when they downed the last of their drink and threw themself into bed, still chewing the wet granules of sugar. As much as they tried to shoo away the insistent thoughts, negativity had settled in Ruby's fixating brain like a stone. The cracks in the ceiling stared down at their glazed expression, and the ticking of their yellowed Whiz Lightspeed alarm clock droned into a methodical silence.

They fell asleep sometime before the sun did, still fully dressed.

The following day they had tried calling their mother, who had very little condolence to offer besides insistence that not everyone was going to want to socialize, and that Ruby would surely make friends soon. They had grumbled confirmation, promised not to worry so much, and then hung up and promptly called Io to complain anew. When they exclaimed, frustrated, yanking on a curl at their forehead, that girls were crazy, their friend had laughed, “You would know!”

Their very limited social circle was decidedly without compassion.

It wasn't entirely their fault, then, Ruby decided, that three days later they were still irate. The self-pity had ebbed, mostly, and their anger at Sapphire, at their mother and Io, at themself and the café, and, for whatever reason, the teenager they had taken the seat from had gone from a painful burn to a tired smolder. But there was a feeling that nagged at them about the whole situation, akin to the few times they had tried extremely hard to study for a math exam and still failed – an embarrassed shame. They should have known better than to try and speak to the pretty woman, no matter their passionate history together; she had obviously wanted very little to do with them. There was a reason folks didn't talk about what happened at teenage get-togethers. As silly as they were, Ruby had broken both the social rules of What Happens Here Stays Here and the definitely more childish Don't Talk To The Popular Girls – they probably deserved the self-ridicule. Still, the rejection had hurt.

Maybe they were being overly-foolish, too, stewing in their feelings for this long. Having graduated (however barely) from high school and moved out on their own, Ruby was sure they had stepped over the threshold of adulthood and should not be sulking in their sweatpants just because one girl didn't want to hang out with them. They carefully coiled up their Gamesquare controller and sighed, suddenly unenthused with the idea of zoning out with the television for another few hours. They ought to at least try to do something productive. Ruby brushed chip crumbs off their shirt as they stood, all intentions set on cooking dinner – it would keep them occupied, make the house smell better, and be at least marginally healthier than living off half-eaten bags of junk food they had found in the cabinet. Alas, as the rhyme went, when they came there, the cupboard was bare, and so the poor dog had to go for groceries.

A short walk later, decked in their finest slouchy overalls and hair half-tamed with a thick, stubby braid and headband, Ruby decided that they probably should have let themself succumb to starvation.

The blinding fluorescent lighting and wide-spaced aisles of the local superstore left little to be blamed on optical illusions, and not a single shadow to hide in. Their battered sneakers squeaked loudly as Ruby jolted to a stop, the one container of blueberries in their basket skidding to one side. Discomfort settled into their stomach like a wet fog, making their insides twitch. Of course the universe would have it out for them; of course they'd be punished for not getting a grip earlier and handling their very human need for food with some sort of adult efficiency; of course the woman they last wanted to see would be walking towards them, and in a group.

Panic superseded grace, and Ruby quickly turned on a heel, zipping out of the hall and turning a quick corner into the aisle of baking goods. To their continued luck, a large woman, her three rambunctious children, and an unnecessarily wide shopping cart blocked their further escape; Ruby faced towards the sprinkles, groaning, and prayed the Princess would stay on her side of the shelves.

“Um, Ruby, right?” came the softest of inquisitions from behind them, and anger, to their surprise, flared anew in their chest. Asking, as if she hadn't absolutely swooned at the sound of their name before, and repeated it breathlessly. Asking, as though she were familiar with anyone else this ridiculous-looking, a nerd from the too-long hem of their pants to the thick rims of their glasses. Asking, as if she were expecting pleasantries after ditching them in the middle of a conversation.

“Wow, look at the memory on Pretty Name Girl,” they bit out, pushing the bottles of sprinkles into neat lines, their hand clenched tight on the handle of their grocery basket. The could still feel eyes boring into their back, but no words followed save a couple quiet strangled noises. “Here I thought you ran away so you _wouldn't_ have to talk to me again.”

“W-what? I didn't run awa-”

“What else do you call disappearing without a word?” Ruby scoffed, swearing as they accidentally knocked the first row of sprinkles off the shelf, and threw their basket underneath to catch them. They dropped the basket onto the tiles and began fishing out the bottles, determinately avoiding looking up and giving their wrist an agitated shake. Lean fingers reached in and took up the container they had been reaching for. 

“I left you my number,” Sapphire responded quietly, her tone cool. 

“Bullshit,” Ruby mumbled, their voice squeaking on the last syllable, horror creeping into their brain like vines of ivy. They had scoured every inch of the seating arrangement in the café, and the lovely woman had left nothing behind but her cold drink. They chanced a glance up at her, eyebrows furrowed, and was met with a nervous grimace. Her nails clicked against the lid of one of the sprinkle cans, fidgeting with the seam.

“I did,” she said, so softly it was almost a whisper, “Really. I ripped out the corner of one of the pages of my book and used your pen.” Ruby stared.

“Why did you leave?” they murmured, stomach flipping, and she looked away, knees tucked close to her chest. Her dark cheeks had become rosy at their peaks. She swallowed.

“I- I was... nervous.” 

“Sorry to freak you out, then,” Ruby huffed, standing quickly and stuffing the bottles they held back onto the shelf, skewing the nice order they had created. They thrust a hand towards Sapphire, and she passed them the ones she held. “Next time I'll mind my own business when I go for coffee.”

“You didn't even drink coffee,” she replied, standing, and reached past Ruby's shoulder to reorganize the bottles, spinning one so the blue sparkly stars on its label faced them. “You ordered hot chocolate.” Ruby glanced at her sidelong, and slowly the twitch of a curious smile inched at the corner of their mouth.

“I never got your number.”

“I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be rude, I jus-”

“I'm going to need it if you want to try the coffee date again, Miss Rooibos.”

The silence between them was almost as deafening as the pounding in Ruby's ears. Half their brain – probably the logical side, whichever that was – was lamenting their loss of sense, using the word “date” on a girl who up until these last few minutes they were sure detested them; the other half was giddy. Sapphire's eyes, only just visible beneath her long bangs, were tracing every line of their face, her gaze hesitant. Ever so carefully, she nodded. Ruby clumsily snatched the pen out of their pocket, hastily stuffed its partner the grocery list back in, and thrust both it and their forearm towards her. Some small part of their anxiety was soothed by the fact that her hands were quivering almost as much as theirs. 

The drag of the ballpoint on their skin both tickled and burned, as conflicted in its decision of attitude as the emotions pumping under Ruby's veins. They watched the gentle sway of Sapphire's hair, glossy in the blaring white light, mesmerized.

“Yo, Sapphy, who's this?” 

Both women jumped; Sapphire snatched her grip away so swiftly the pen cut a shallow line through Ruby's skin. Ruby stuffed their hand in their pocket, giving the basket in their other arm a small swing, trying to steady their breath. A tall woman with long silver hair – _platinum_ , it was called, though in Ruby's personal opinion it looked less like the polished chrome of a sports car and more the dull grain of concrete – followed by several others pushing a small cart had come around the corner, chattering to each other; the woman propped an elbow on Sapphire's much smaller shoulder and gave Ruby a (disdainful) glance up and down.

“Sera,” Sapphire stumbled, her fingers twirling around the pen uncomfortably, “Um, t-this is-”

“Ruby,” they introduced, slouching and giving the woman a jolty acknowledgment with their chin, “Nice to meet you.” The woman hummed, unimpressed, her perfectly-drawn black eyebrows raising up her forehead. Sapphire's eyes had gone wide, searching the tiles of the floor frantically. Sighing internally, Ruby swallowed their pride and continued, “Knocked some shit over and your friend helped me out – sorry for stealing her away from you. Couldn't help making conversation. She's really cute. I don't suppose you'd be able to convince her to try a date with another woman?”

Sera, as expected, sneered, a protective hand encircled the smaller woman's shoulders, and Ruby knew they'd done their job. Sapphire, frozen in place, stared at them from under her bangs, her mouth slightly agape.

“No thanks,” the silver-haired woman smiled, though there was no warmth in the expression or the words, “Sapphire's too good to swing _your_ way. Enjoy your shopping.”

“You too,” Ruby replied nonchalantly, turning back to stare at the glitter of the sprinkle jar Sapphire had turned whilst her friends pulled her away. They wheeled their cart past, and Ruby heard a not-so-muffled, “Oh my god, lesbians are such creeps,” before the group turned the corner. Sighing, they glanced down at the ink on their arm.

_114-5264. Don't call._


	4. My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean

_Let me be your porch light_  
_Your favorite star on the best night  
_ _A good yell, a good fight  
_ _Let me be_

_[7:43PM] fr Ruby: Don't call, huh?_

The new message sat like a vibrant beacon among the others on Sapphire's phone, the device blinking its red light as if both gleefully announcing and warning her of it. Caught in the last moments of wrapping her hair in a braid, she reached, tapping the screen with her pinky. Her insides fluttered and she looked to her expression in the mirror, neutral but for the rosy heat making her cheekbones and ear tips hurt, as if asking for the nonverbal confirmation of the girl staring back at her. The bathroom sink dripped once, echoing in the wide room; the only sound besides her thin breathing. Her toes scrunched in her fuzzy slippers. Ruby had understood her note, then. Calling would alert her parents of something new, because none of her friends called. Instant messaging was a way of life, and a norm that never deviated. Sapphire smiled weakly at her reflection. 

She shouldn't have been proud of the fact – really, she shouldn't have been excited that Ruby had decided to text her even after Sera's blatant rudeness towards them in the grocery store at all. It was flattering, and mortifying. Delightful, and yet made her want to grab her phone and respond with a stern, “I'm sorry, that should not have happened, this is my fault, please forget about it,” to absolve the heavy guilt in her chest. Sapphire hummed anxiously, flung her finished braid over her shoulder, and pulled sparkling pink bobby pins from between her lips to twist up her bangs. Now revealed, the lashes of her limp eyelid lay long and dark against her skin, shadowing the creamy grey and blue cataract almost flirtatiously. Sighing, she took a damp cloth to her face and then manually lifted it to wipe her eye clean. It would never be pretty, but Sapphire refused to let her blind optic be neglected into a state of irreversible trouble. The same, she supposed, could be said for her relationships with others.

Her phone chirped again, and Sapphire used a knuckle to bop the screen to life. A Clickchat message from Sera lit the glass: another selfie, taken from an angle, lit with the glass doors in her living room. Sera was tall to begin with, but the chosen tilt of capture made her legs look like curved stilts, and the sheer wave of the green skirt she was wearing glossed across the carpet far below like thin waves of flora. Her makeup had been applied boldly and with deep, seductive colours. The wording across the screen pressed across her painted lips and read: _[2 hrs 2 party tiiiime gurl u gon b thur??? <3]_

Sapphire frowned, chewing on her facecloth. Sera was, bluntly put, a high-maintenance friend. They had met through dance class in ninth grade, and though the training was short-lived, Sapphire's soft complacency and agreeance to listen to everything and anything the taller girl wanted to complain about had forged a bond unbreakable. They had traded cheap BFF necklaces, had sleepovers and celebrated boy bands together, and it was she who had bleached Sapphire's hair for her and lead her away from the secondhand tee shirts with unicorn print to styles more applicable to her age and social status; though she had mostly managed to stay opposed to a wardrobe of exclusively name-brand items, Sapphire had to admit that her self-confidence had been sturdied since Seraphina had entered her life. Still, in many ways, they were complete opposites. Where Sera sought affection and adventure from disposable boyfriends and frequent dancing, Sapphire was contented with her bookshelves novels and the occasional movie night curled up between her parents. She had allowed concessions every once in a while to sedate Sera's cravings for socializing with her and drinking by being her date to a couple of bars, but had never totally felt the bump n' grind scene. Tonight, if she recalled correctly, was a night of dancing, hosted at the Sea Spire, a well-known but not particularly safe club. Beyond the building needing repairs and updates twenty years ago, it was almost guaranteed to be chock-full of Beach City's most desperately single. 

_Sorry,_ Sapphire typed back, reminding herself that she had spent last weekend with Sera at her boyfriend's cottage and the past Tuesday helping her and her two roommates shop for ambient lamps for their new apartment – her obligation quota had been filled. _I'm going to opt out of tonight. You have fun for me, though! <3_

_[7:54PM] fr Sera: awww bb cmon ull <3 thi s dont flake out on meeee_

Sapphire huffed, bopping her phone against her forehead. She couldn't use her parents as an excuse again – three days ago movie night had been her escape from Sera's invite for a drive around town with some skeeze she'd met behind the Big Donut whilst she'd had a smoke. The text from Ruby patiently flickered at her as she wrote: _Overdue on university apps, bb. I don't want to fall behind!_

_[7:55PM] fr Sera: thats bs and u no it, ur already a shu in 4 Ocean U_

Ocean University, many states away and meant mostly for law studies, had never been Sapphire's intention, but she had diligently been working on convincing the colleges of Sea Town, River Valley, and Streamburg to take her into their ranks for their introductory writing programs. Sapphire had a passion for prose. She wrote poetry, in her spare time, and consequently lyrics, but had, as she had matured and been given feedback by her high school teachers, taken an inkling to writing editorials and articles that brought debate. Freelance work online – mostly under a pen name, and for a low-budget, low-fact conspiracy website called _Keep Beach City Weird_ – had given her some practice, but she wanted real education on the subject. Four of her prospective educational institutions had already gotten back to her with acceptance letters, so it was really only a matter of choice; there were still two universities Sapphire would prefer, and those she had put off applying to out of hesitance.

But all in all, Sera was calling her bluff loud and clear. Staying in for the night to nitpick her dissertations was not of critical importance right this moment, and truly she had nothing holding her back from dressing up in her finest and gallivanting off for a night on the town with her best friend.

She really, really didn't want to, though. Was that so wrong?

Sapphire gave herself a quick flick on the cheek as precursor punishment for lying as she threw back the flowery curtain of the shower and stuffed the plug in the drain. She cranked the taps, letting water torrent out into the basin, and after checking that there was nothing awkward sitting on the tub ledge, snapped a photo of the cascade. She sent it to Sera with a sigh and caption that read, _Sorry, already taking a bath, don't want to hold you up!_

_[7:56PM] fr Sera: pix or it didnt happen_

Sapphire groaned to the ceiling, throwing her phone on the counter with a curse. She pulled the shower curtain completely out of the basin and searched the rim for her favourite vanilla-scented bubble bath. She gave the bottle an unmeasured squeeze – adding extra just because oh, Sera was such a pain sometimes! - and cleared the bathtub space of all the treatments and washes and oils her mother loved to buy but that mostly sat untouched and gathering dust. As the foam in the tub grew, Sapphire gave a quick shout into the hall to let her father know what she was doing, then locked the door. She shimmied out of her tank top and skirt, grabbed another clip to wind her braid atop her head with (a gaudy banana-coloured star, courtesy of her childhood), and slowly lowered herself into the water. The heat sent goosebumps flying across her skin, and made her shiver with pleasure. Okay, so maybe this wasn't such a big deal. She hadn't been planning on bathing, but the heat was divine, and the dim glow of the potlight over the bathtub leant a soothing atmosphere to the room. Sapphire pulled the curtain closed around her, letting herself melt into the sea of bubbles. She took a deep breath of the scented water and sighed.

She gave herself a good moment of soaking before returning to the task at hand. Checking that all the necessary bits were covered with creamy foam, Sapphire flicked her hands clean of water and reached for her phone. The Clickchat application was one of the first on her screen, sitting on top of a photo taken of a string of fairy lights hung in last year's autumn leaves. She turned the camera towards herself, angled it so the dim lighting would flatter her as much as possible (the orange of these bulbs highlighted her dark skin in the worst ways, sometimes), and then took a quick photo of the top half of her body in the bath. She captioned it lazily, sinking so her shoulders were coated in the lovely warmth, and then sent it off. That should have been the end of it.

Sapphire had been tracing streams of fading bubbles through the iridescent coating on the water, humming to herself, when her phone chirped at her. She rolled her eyes and hung over the tub wall, wiping her fingers dry on the floor mat and bopping the screen awake. Her good eye scanned the highlighted message. It wasn't from Sera.

It was from _Ruby._

Heart hammering and water splattering up over the edge of the bathtub, Sapphire grabbed at her device with both hands, feverishly going through her message history. A quick scan revealed that Sera was still waiting for a reply. She reopened her own message – a naked, but tastefully covered photo of her and her silly hairstyle with _[Here, see?]_ written across the top – and then noted its destination. Her stomach roiled. 

_I am so SO sorry!!!_ She typed with quivering fingers, whimpering under her breath, _That wasnt meant for u Im so sorry it was a joke fo r a friend plz ignore it!!! I'm sorry that must have been so weird it was an ac cident!!_

She buried her head in her arms, willing her breathing to slow. Her phone repeatedly dinged, and she scrunched her eyes shut, terrified, but they were only continued messages from Sera, calling her a liar and imploring her to make up their missed time together later in the week. The single regular text from Ruby sat peacefully in place, unanswered, and the icon on her Clickchat app stared at her. Sapphire bit her lip. She had gotten dick pics before, and horrid texts for booty calls followed by insults; she could handle whatever awkward reply Ruby had sent her, she was sure. Maybe. Probably. 

_Stop being such a wuss,_ she reprimanded herself, and hit the open button. 

She dissolved so suddenly into laughter, so hysterical and barking, that her bodily slump of relief had her spitting soap bubbles and her father knocking on the door to see that she was alright. She waved the hand holding her phone at the door as she assured him, and then took another glance at the image and lost herself giggling all over again. Sapphire pushed back the hairs flying away at her forehead and curled up in the tub, her entire body warm with the heat of the tub and the release of her anxiety. She grinned at the photo. Ruby had apparently gone to their kitchen, filled their sink with dish soap, and puffed it across their face like a beard and eyebrows. They had stuck a spoon in their mouth at an angle, put a pot on their head, and popped the collar of their shirt, scowling at the camera. The caption read, _[Arrr, I see foamy seas and a pretty lass braving them!!]_

Giddiness built up in Sapphire's gut, as free as it had been when she was a child playing pretend and her father had joined in. Grinning wildly, she searched her surroundings for props. A facecloth of deep green became skin draped over her empty hand, thumb and fingers pressed together like the beak of a bird; she let a shower puff float at just the right angle behind her arm and balanced one of her mother's shaped bath oil sachets on the top of her knuckles, like an eye. She pushed bubbles all around her makeshift monster and snapped a photo, smiling so hard her face had begun to hurt. _[Arrr, these seas be the home of the Loch Ness!]_

_[Plz take my ship, it will keep u safe!!]_ was the response, with a photo of an origami boat made of newspaper slowly becoming a soggy heap in Ruby's sink. The straw propped at the back of it had already begun to tilt, and the sparkling sticker that had served as its flag, a rather silly-looking photo of Mayor Dewey's balding head, was a moment from becoming waterlogged. Sapphire laughed so hard she momentarily stopped breathing. 

By the time they had finished – or at least slowed – their foolish back-and-forth Clickchat spree, during which Ruby had seen nearly all the contents of Sapphire's upstairs bathroom in some variation of a joke and the water had long gone tepid, Sapphire had forgotten Sera's demands... and to undo her hair from its silly clip. She had dressed herself in her fuzziest two-piece pajamas, the light blue penguin-print ones she had been given for her birthday, and sprawled over her bed with a plush toy clutched to her chest to try and soothe the ache in her ribs from chuckling for so long. She was browsing back through the photos she had saved from their conversation, buried in the folds of her comforter, when a new message popped into view. 

It was a picture of a tin of hot chocolate on a cluttered counter, the top off and silver insides shining at the camera. Brown powder dusted the rim, but the container was otherwise empty. _[I think I have a problem]_ read the caption, _[would u be interested in helping?]_

Her stomach fluttered, inebriated with the fun she'd been having through her bath. The soft reassurance of the downy sheets around her encouraged the feeling. The stuffed dog in her arms looked up at her with wide chocolate eyes and implored her to take a chance. Sapphire shot an arm out and took a haphazard photo of herself. The image was all pink waves and mountains of cloth, a cascade of wet hair, and the peek of a single blue eye above a flushed cheekbone, terribly lit. Before she could second-guess herself, she typed, _[thursday, 4PM, same chairs?]_

The photo that came back to her moments later, dim except for the shot of setting sunlight smeared across the ridge of a brown cheek and wide nose, setting Ruby's beautiful dark eyes on fire, made Sapphire's lungs fail her. They were lying on their side, a grey pillow pushing up against their wild curls, their collarbone so clean and bare Sapphire couldn't tell if they were wearing a shirt. A crooked, toothy grin warmed the image, and their long eyelashes sat like shy curtains over their red face. Sapphire quickly saved the photo, unsatisfied with the mere ten seconds the app had given her to view it. 

_[Only if u sit right. See you there.]_


	5. Brought To You By Frosted Flakes

_I can't think straight, I'm so gay_  
_Sometimes I cry a whole day  
_ _I care a lot, use an analog clock  
_ _And never know when to stop_

_Prairie Dog Day_ was Ruby's mother's favourite movie. She had, ironically, watched the film, which had depicted a single day set on repeat, so many times that she had lost count. When Ruby was home sick from school, it was what was put on the television as background noise. When she had had a long day at work and wanted to unwind with cookie dough ice cream – Ruby's favourite – they had sat together with a tub each and Ruby's grandmother's scratchy purple quilt wrapped around both their shoulders and watched all the way through the credits. Ruby liked observing their mother's expressions change along with the actors', and her lips move to her most beloved lines. During the duller scenes, she would peek down at them and ruffle their curls. Ruby had seen the movie so many times they could recite the script, but had nonetheless savoured the moments, because everything about those nights were predictable and routine.

If it was true that life mimicked art, then Ruby had decided that it must also be true that circumstances mimicked what one watched. The day they were to meet Sapphire at the café, the sky opened up, and rain dumped itself upon the citizens of Beach City with the melancholic glee of an old lady talking about her aches. The pipes in Ruby's apartment took up their quiet dripping song once more, and even before they went outside, their hair began to swell with the humidity. It was round two of an attempted date with the Girl Formerly Known As Princess, and thus the universe decided it was also time for Ruby's own personal stop-rewind-replay of last Friday.

Their mood couldn't be dampened, though. Ruby had woken early to shower and try and give their curls time to air-dry into some sort of organized mass, and spent much too long making themself anxious over what to wear. (Dare they try and put on something more stylish than jeans and a sweater? Would their outfit's juxtaposition to Sapphire's change her opinion of them? Was this a time to swallow their comfort in favour of something more feminine, or would that weird their date out? Were they going to sweat through their clothes, or be shivering in the rain? How in the world did women make these kind of decisions every day on top of doing their makeup?) They had wasted a good few dollars worth of electricity standing with the fridge door open, wrangling with the decision of what food they could eat that wouldn't make their breath awful or stain their clothes, though, in the end, had shucked off their shirt while they ate their plate of cut fruit anyway, and had draped a dishcloth across their lap; a bachelor's life was gratuitously glamorous, and all was fair in love and internal debate. They had checked the bus schedule for the path of least resistance, and had grabbed a ride an hour earlier than really necessary. For whatever reason, Ruby was absolutely determined to appear put-together.

Their mother had always stressed the necessity of a good first impression; every time their fading VCR had played the _Prairie Dog Day_ cassette, she had sighed over the male lead and reminded Ruby of it. Her first viewing of the film, in a long-foreclosed theatre with ripped seats, had left her starstruck by the actor, and she insisted it was because of three things: he dressed well, he was funny, and he took no shit.

“Be strong and laugh when you're nervous, Ru-ru,” she had cooed, fingers wound around the coils of their hair, “And put on something nice for your date.”

Ruby hadn't had a date in quite a while – not officially, anyway, and that's what this was, wasn't it? An actual, honest-to-god date where they'd asked someone to go to a place with them and do something. The nonchalant confidence they had had during Peridot's party had ebbed away like sand through their fingers, likely because their partner was no longer staggeringly drunk, they were going to be in public, and Sapphire actually knew who they were, now. No longer could Ruby fade into the background if things went sour – should they see each other around town, there would forever be that itching feeling in their shoulders that demanded they not make eye contact. There were no slots for dates-turned-friends in Ruby's social life... their first short-term partner, a rather pretentious person who had wanted to be called “Onyx”, had made sure of that. This was an impress-or-die situation!

It stung more than a little, therefore, when Sapphire sent them a text to say she was flaking out.

Ruby stared up at the ceiling of the café, tracing the swirling stucco with their eyes, and sighed loudly. Their phone beeped, and they removed it from between their teeth, wiping spit off the fresh bite marks in the rubber case. The gave the screen a couple of quick jabs and scanned her follow-up message, rolling their eyes. They should have been used to excuses by now – they'd had their fair share supplemented. “Something's come up,” was a common one, but “Family emergency,” followed by “I'm not feeling well,” or “You were nice, but I'm just too busy right now,” was a classic they'd seen more than once. Sapphire's reason was new, admittedly, but didn't hurt much less.

_[3:44PM] fr Sapphire: This is going to sound like the worst thing but my bff needs me bc she just broke up with her bf._

_[3:45PM] fr Sapphire: I'm so sorry – can we meet up later???_

Ruby had been fed the “later” line before, and there never was a “later”. The time and date was always pushed farther into the future, until reality crushed their naïve hope and sent them – the first time, anyway – crying to their mother. Dejected, Ruby threw their phone onto the short table and folded their arms, curling into the scratchy embrace of the chair back. It was hardly the soft hug they would have liked as a comfort, but did well to smother their surly expression. Their phone dinged again, and Ruby flicked their middle finger at it from under their arm.

The café door swung open with a jingle, and Ruby's cell chirped once more, insistently mocking it. They chewed a thumbnail, glancing determinately out the window at the soft mist that had spattered the glass, fighting curiousity. The gentle lilt of a familiar voice from the other side of the room, though, caught their attention like a sharp jab to the ribs. Startled, Ruby spun around, nearly falling out of their chair in the process. Their eyes must be betraying them. Something between anger and dread bubbled in their gut and clenched their throat tight; Ruby snatched frantically at their phone, tapping the screen spastically with their thumb.

_[3:48PM] fr Sapphire: Oh this is going to be weird but she wants to go to the same coffee shop!_

_[3:48PM] fr Sapphire: Ruby I am so sorry_

_[3:49PM] fr Sapphire: please bear with me for a little while I'll sit with her for a bit and then we can talk together. If you're still interested?? I know this is awful I'm sorry_

Curling like an oversized cat into the seat of the chair, knees tucked under their shoulders, Ruby watched. Their intended date looked wonderful, as expected, her curves wrapped in a deep blue coat with symmetrical lines of silver buttons down the front and a skirt of pleats puffing from her hips. Her slender legs, tucked into boots, were flattered by close-cut jeans (and somehow safe from rainwater). When she slipped her hood free, her long hair tumbled down her back like a curtain of gold. Ruby huffed, jealous that her beauty had been offered secondly to them in favour of the tall, rude, cement-headed woman that for whatever reason Sapphire called her friend. Chewing once again on their phone case, lips near hidden behind the chair arm, Ruby sneered in Sera's direction.

They sat on bar stools, one woman's legs scuffing the floor and the other's hovering high above. One of the bartenders, in the middle of wiping away past patrons' messes, stopped by their table to ask what they'd like to drink; pretty girls received such treatment, despite the locale being a stand-and-order sort of place. Sapphire's rooibos tea came in a delicate glass pot, the thick mass of leaves swirling in it like sand kicked up in a riverbank; Sera's drink was decidedly an indicator of her personality, as it was piled high with unnecessary toppings and housed in an obnoxiously ornate cup. They spoke with one another, and Ruby was reminded of the conversations they had watched Sapphire have with other girls between classes when they had studied her fixedly in high school; she nodded and smiled intermittently, sipped quietly at her beverage, and hardly spoke a word between her friend's excitable chattering. 

Sera didn't look upset in the least. Her arms gestured sporadically as she talked, laughing at her own comments and slurping loudly at her coffee. Her long hair fell across her cheeks like spiderwebs as she moved, and the repetitive flicking she did with her hand to push it back made Ruby want to take a butter knife to the tresses. Her makeup was heavy, and they could almost smell the fresh-off-the-rack perfume of her clothes. Next to her, Sapphire's aura faded into a complacent blandness, and it made Ruby furious. They had always fancied themself a person open-minded, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to categorize Sera by her looks alone as a woman as emotionally shallow and in constant need of attention. They grumpily tapped in a new message: _Yeah, she looks real torn up._

Sapphire perked up and shoved a hand in her pocket, alerted by the buzz of her phone. For a brief moment, her attention was yanked completely away from Sera, and though her bangs obscured her eyes, Ruby swore they saw the twitch of a grimace cross her lips. She began poking at the screen. Her friend, suddenly aware of her diverted gaze, snatched the device from her lean fingers. Ruby's heart slapped their ribs alarmedly, and they ducked further into the pocket of their chair, yanking their slightly damp coat on top of their head. Thank the universe they had chosen to sit in the corner least visible to Sera's scouring survey of the café!

“Is this that lesbo that was hitting on you in the grocery store, girl?” her loud voice cackled, sounding both alarmed and entertained, “How did she even get your number?”

Sapphire's response was too quiet to hear, though the hand she had hidden under the table had bunched into a fidgeting fist in her shirt. Sera barked out a laugh, and though her comment was muffled by a peak of white noise from the other patrons, the ding of a new message from Ruby's phone confirmed their dreadful suspicion. 

_[4:13PM] fr Sapphire: sory to tear U up, but this crepy txting stops now_

Ruby rested their forehead on the chair arm and let their jacket block out the orangey-hued light of the room, effectively creating a dark tunnel between their knees, the furniture, and the blindingly bright screen of their cell. Their curls piled on the glass like dozens of miniature Slinkies, framing the increasingly rude texts Sera sent their way. Ruby sighed, and their eyes began to burn, though whether because of the digital glare or insult they weren't sure.

_[4:13PM] fr Sapphire: idk if u thot I was interested_

_[4:14PM] fr Sapphire: I just cant say no when Im cornered by ppl, u no??_

_[4:14PM] fr Sapphire: aneway Im not looking 4 any more frends or queers in my life, so do me a favur and fuk off got it_

_[4:15PM] fr Sapphire: dont text this numbur again xoxo_

Huffing, Ruby quickly deleted the conversation, and glanced up at the silver-haired woman. She was smiling smugly, holding Sapphire's baby blue phone out of her reach. Sapphire, they noted, was making very little effort to fight her for it. She gently tucked her long hair back, took a hesitant glance around the shop, and muttered just loudly enough for Ruby to hear a quick, “Sera, please.”

Ruby hardly realized the angry haze controlling their actions until the door clanged behind them and rainwater began mingling with the saltwater pricking at their eyes. They took to the bus stop as quickly as their feet would take them without breaking into a run, sniffing. They scrubbed a sleeve against their face. The results were always the same, they thought, kicking a rock off the sidewalk – there was never a later, something always came up, and someone was always better.

It was a good ten minutes before the flicker of Sapphire's blond hair winked at them through the grey fog and dark shade of her hood, and by then Ruby had their bus pass in hand, gaze locked on the road and begging the transit to come early. They ignored the nervous shouts of their name from the girl making her way towards them, and swallowed the hot prickling in their throat. Their phone had been chirping insistently in their bag, and had even rung once, but Ruby had slapped fingers onto its mute button without even looking. The girl tottered to a stop a foot from them, one hand lifted placatingly.

“Ruby,” she said, voice wavering, “I am so sor-”

“Go away,” they barked back, clenching the paper bus pass in their fist, “You're not, I don't care, just leave me alone. Go hang out with your shit friend and her fake boy troubles already.”

“Look, I didn't mean for-”

“It doesn't matter what you meant!”

“I don't know why you're so-!”

“You don't _respect_ me, Sapphire!” they snapped, whirling to face the woman, whose expression quickly fell from its indignant clench, “If something was actually wrong, then I could have waited! I get it, okay? If that giant homophobe you call a friend really needed you, we could have done this some other day. But not only did you brush me off for her- her false problems or whatever, you let her-! Did you read the shit she sent? Do you even care?”

Sapphire's lips trembled, her eyes darting from the ground and back up to their glare fearfully. The deep, rumbling thrum of an engine moaned its way towards them, and Ruby glanced towards the arriving bus. They turned towards the road, stuffing their hands in their pockets. 

“It would have been nice to see you at least _try_ to stop her,” they added, and the transport rolled to a wheezing stop in front of them just as Sapphire's hand gripped their arm. They yanked it roughly, aiming to shake her off, frowning up at the bus driver, who was waiting for them to board. They looked over at their companion only when they heard the crackling sound of a phone ringing through a broad speaker.

“Sera,” the woman said, her fingers like iron in their sleeve and stare locked on the wet ground, “I'm not coming back to the café. Can you take my bag with you?”

 _“What the heck, Sapphy, where're you going?”_ came the disbelieving voice from the other end, loud and vibrating, and Ruby rolled their eyes apologetically at the driver as he slammed the bus door shut and began to drive away. They stared out at the shops on the far end of the street, listening.

“I'm going to hang out with Ruby.”

_“Wait, hold up, that chick who got your number? I handled that, babe, she's not-”_

“No, Sera, I want to go out with her. We were supposed to have coffee together today.”

_“Sapphire, you don't have to lie to me. I'm not gonna let some-”_

“I'll catch you later,” she finished quickly, shutting down the call with a tap of her thumb. The rain pattered around them, hissing curiously. A car whizzed by, splattering water across the curb. A seagull cawed maniacally far above them, wheeling in the misty breeze. Ruby turned on a heel and marched down the street, hands still buried in their coat pockets. 

A moment later, a second set of clunking footsteps joined them.


	6. Down Came The Rain And Washed The Spider Out

_Kiss me like the world is gonna disappear_  
_I'm a better person when I have you here_  
_Oh, I got you and I can get through_  
_Anything as long as I can see your face_

Sapphire concluded a bit belatedly that she could have thought out her actions better.

Leaving her bag with Sera had meant leaving behind her bus pass, her house keys, and the sturdy silver knuckle-dusters that her best friend had insisted on equipping her with for times she had to walk home alone, and the delayed partner to her panic – common sense – had taken its time in informing her that she was following Ruby into a rather shady part of town. Her brooding, curly-haired companion hadn't spoken a word since they had left the but stop, nor looked up from the wet sidewalk except to glance over their shoulder for incoming cars. They didn't seem to want her company, which wasn't surprising, but made their adventure into less and less familiar streets all the more unnerving for Sapphire. The realization that she knew nothing about Ruby outside of their quick wit and that they could consequently be leading her somewhere dangerous flashed through her mind, and Sapphire momentarily considered turning back, but her need to rectify the hurt of the situation powered her feet forward (besides, she was a little lost). She dared not take Ruby's bent arm, for she feared they would angrily shake her free and run off, though the comfort of a semi-familiar body by her side might take away the chill of both the rain and the mood.

Sapphire sighed quietly, fiddling with the charm on her phone, buried in her shallow coat pockets. Water tickled her skin as it rode in tiny rivulets down her face, slicking her hair to her skin. They had been walking for a good twenty minutes, at a rather insistent pace, but she was hesitant to ask Ruby to slow down. She glanced up at the brick apartment buildings surrounding them, noted their dilapidated air conditioners and rusty fire escapes, and shuffled a bit faster. A few soggy leaves slapped her ankles on their way to the gutters, falling free of the hood of a parked, outdated car. Rude graffiti had been sprayed across one of its doors, and duct tape had been stretched across what she assumed was a crack in the back window. Her gut fluttered. Sapphire's parents would have blanched if they could see where she was.

“Ruby?” she asked quietly, still eyeing the state of the housing nearby, including the boarded up face of what was once a pizza shop. Her companion peeked back at her, and their surly expression softened the tiniest fraction at her unnerved posture. They grunted. Sapphire stumbled after when she realized Ruby had detoured to the right, towards a chain link fence; the metal clanked like muffled sleigh bells as Ruby scaled the deterrent, momentarily perched atop it like a massive owl, and then jumped to the other side. They turned to face her, finally, when the coils of steel separated their bodies, and she stared uncomfortably into their eyes, blinking away rainwater.

“How many people know about you?” came the question, and it sent goosebumps up Sapphire's neck like the rush of steam from an unexpected laundry vent. Ruby began to walk along the length of the fence, and she chased them, glancing over her shoulders at the buildings that very suddenly felt like wolves at her back. Her fingertips were going numb from how desperately she was fidgeting with her phone charm. 

“What do you mean?” she returned, the tiniest of wavers in her voice. She had no idea where she was. Was Ruby going to leave her here if she answered incorrectly?

“You're a lesbian,” they said bluntly, and Sapphire swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, “Who knows?”

She reached for the fence and clenched desperately at its sharp edges, begging understanding: “Nobody.”

Ruby stopped, and surveyed her. The misty wind whipped at them both, carrying strands of hair across Sapphire's lips in a plea for silence and drew her opposition's dark curls around their hard expression like a cowl. They stood as a sentry, face unreadable, waiting for something – Sapphire decided she had best deliver. Hands trembling, she reached for the wall and began to climb, gripping the slippery steel with a ferocity that made her arms hurt. Her toes hardly fit into the squares of its mesh, and the metal rattled underneath her weight. The fence clanged at her, laughing as she neared the top, her back arching awkwardly as she changed her grip.

Sapphire stumbled forward as she lifted a foot to the other side, her heel slipping from its hold, and Ruby twitched, stepping towards her. Their arms jolted by their sides, reaching upwards just a fraction. With a shaky breath, she pulled her other foot over the side and clambered down, eyes locked on the cement. To her surprise, fingertips brushed her waist upon her landing. 

Ruby's eyes searched hers when she looked up, but their face remained bland. They turned before she could speak, hands once again stuffed in their pockets. 

Quartz littered the ground below her boots, a sea of white pebbles brushed with loose darker stones. Tall deciduous trees in the distance framed the clearing around them, wavering in the cool breeze like shadowed ghouls, and gave the wind the vocal chords with which to howl. Loose leaves whipped through the air and coated the form that Ruby had dashed towards; Sapphire was startled to realize it was a jungle gym. Thick beams and platforms and silver metal poles shined, slick with rain, and a mirror-like slide cascaded towards the ground as an industrial waterfall. A swing set with peeling paint posed behind the towers of wood, its seats wiggling in invitation. Ruby was climbing up a near-vertical plank, arms tugging their body by a frayed rope.

Despite herself, Sapphire smiled. Nostalgia hit her like a wave, reminding her of recesses spent shimmying up monkey bars and playing Alligator on the curves of a wavy slide. She jogged towards the equipment, scouring for what she most wanted to touch, shaking her head at the fact that Ruby had led her through layers of suspicious, unnerving city to, of all things, an elementary school playground. Her fingers reached cold metal and muscles moved to memory, and before she had completely thought the action through, Sapphire was hanging upside down by her knees. 

When she opened her eyes, grinning with the blood rush to her brain, she met hot breath and a piercing brown stare. Startled, she swatted at the bars and secured her grip with her hands. Ruby snorted what could have been a laugh and glanced down at the dirt. They were hanging by their arms, legs tucked and ankles folded.

“So nobody knows,” they murmured, and Sapphire's anxiety returned with relish. She shook her head frantically, confirming, “Nobody.”

“Then if I kissed you,” Ruby continued, and heat joined the colour in Sapphire's face, “No one would know.”

“Nobody,” she whispered, and her eyelashes obscured her vision as they leaned close.

The touch never came. Rain made her lips cool, and the crunch of rocks shifting woke Sapphire from her haze. Their companion was once again walking away, hands hidden in the folds of their jacket. She grumbled, emotions scrunched within her gut, and dropped from the bars, following with a huff. What a tease! Ruby deposited themself onto a swing with a thump and then looked at her expectantly; she marched to a stop in front of them and pouted, “What?”

“Swing with me,” they said, but when she reached for the seat beside them, Ruby grumbled, “No, not like that.”

“Like what, then?” Ruby seemed to consider her with pity, and waved a hand.

“C'mere,” they directed, patting their lap, and when she stared, added, “Haven't you ever done the Spider?”

“Excuse me?”

“The Spider. Two people on a swing. Did you never do this?”

Her blank stare answered for her. With an exasperated half-smile, Ruby took her arm and pulled her closer. They directed her movements: legs draped between their hips and the swing chains, hands gripping around theirs. Sapphire found herself seated primly in the other woman's lap, staring her in the face. Her legs hung off the back of the swing. They had fused into a four-legged, four-armed creature, heat trapped between their torsos. Ruby jolted backwards, yanking on the chains, and the momentum set them swinging. Reflexively, Sapphire did the same. Together they began pumping themselves into a rhythmic sway. Their combined weight made the movement slow, but soon they were gliding through the air with little effort, thanks to physics. 

It was very unlike anything Sapphire had ever done. Her elementary school experience had been guided with the careful gaze and strict rules of private school instructors, and had ensured she never did anything akin to this. Sharing a swing went against its purpose; rolling down a hill would dirty her uniform and endanger her to rocks and roots; playground earth padded with loose stones instead of the remains of rubber tires was asking for a childhood concussion. The haphazard tilt of her seat every time she rocked backwards made her stomach whirl, both due to the movement and the close lean of Ruby's body. The grey scenery around them became a blur; the hands layered atop hers warmed her fingers despite the chill of the air. Her thighs were pinched on the outside by the cold metal chains that held them aloft, and cushioned with the gorgeous heat of the other woman's torso inside. She almost wished Ruby would wrap their arms around her waist instead of the swing, so she might tip back and let the surreal nature of the scenario envelope her without falling on her head. The motion was nauseating and delightful, and the company all the more so. 

Sapphire shrieked and yanked her body upwards when the entire swingset reverberated with a loud thump, and Ruby began to laugh. The sound rumbled through their chest with an integrity that burnt away the cool air and brought colour to the very space around them. They swung with a revived vigor, pumping the swing towards the sky despite the skew Sapphire's jostling had put in their trajectory. The metal frame thumped again, and her alarmed shout repeated.

“Ruby!” she squawked, but her partner paid no heed, flicking their legs beneath her with ever more enthusiasm. She clung hard to the chains that held them up, her head spinning as the swing pitched nearly ninety degrees perpendicular to the bar. There was a moment where Sapphire swore her heartbeat harmonized with Ruby's giggling, and where time paused and the drizzle in the air reversed its flow, for her very body lifted out of the seat and for an instant she was weightless.

She slammed back into Ruby's lap, and was suddenly flying towards them; with another loud thump, they reversed direction, and again her limbs became as free as dried leaves in the breeze. Terror and adrenaline-spiked glee battled in her flipping stomach and brought forth more squeaks from between her lips, and they pierced the atmosphere around their fused form like wildly shot bullets. The legs of the swingset, unholstered by any concrete or pegs, continued to pound the earth between their second-long flights. Dizzied, Sapphire's good eye spun to meet the squinting glance of her companion's, and the unadulterated joy in their gaze made what the momentum hadn't touched in her body absolutely weak.

It was then that the world took a plummet in a direction untethered, and alarm crossed Ruby's brown eyes as gravity suplexed the two of them squarely into the dirt. The metal bars that had held them hit the ground with a deafening clang. Rocks sprayed out around them like shrapnel. Ruby yelped as their back crumpled against the ground, and Sapphire against them, her legs sprawling and knees stinging. Her hands slipped on pebbles as she tried to right herself and free the press of her breasts against Ruby's shoulders and neck; they groaned weakly. Sucking in a breath, Sapphire pushed herself onto her elbows.

“Are you okay?” she wheezed, glancing around at the wreckage of their flight. The bracing legs of the swingset had been ripped clean free from the ground, and were posed towards the sky as if flipping a muddy middle finger at the clouds. Ruby moaned below her, their arms sluggishly lifting towards the back of their head, back arching up in pain (the fact that their hips consequently pushed up against her behind was obviously not intentional, but didn't stop the blush that crept into the tips of Sapphire's ears and apples of her cheeks and began to burn her skin). Face scrunched, Ruby nodded.

It was hard to resist the temptation to cup their head and check for lumps, and Sapphire had never considered herself a woman of strength. Gently she laid her hand over Ruby's, and the burlier woman let her venture a few slow fingers into the mass of their curls. Their deep chocolate eyes bore up at her, unwavering, framed by their long eyelashes, and Sapphire smiled when she found no blood or wound on Ruby's skull. 

“We broke the swing,” she said, and the grins under masks of grimaces they both wore made her laugh. The warmth of a palm on each of her forearms petered her giggles down to breathy huffs. Ruby's expression had flattened, as neutral as it had been behind the fence but with less animosity feeding it. Something in their stare and the position their sore bodies had found amongst each other sobered her giddiness and melded her smile into something more like theirs: intense, and questioning.

“You don't even know any gay kids, do you?” Ruby asked, and she shrugged lightly. 

“No,” was the first response that came to her lips, but then Sapphire considered, “Well, you.”

“You're really new to this,” they continued, though this time it sounded less like a question. She searched their face, nodding slightly, without fully understanding their meaning. A hand slid up along her arm, traced her shoulder, and cupped softly behind her neck, making the little hairs that lived there stand on end. Its partner grabbed her elbow. 

Though perhaps given the time to think about it, something in Sapphire's brain would have protested, but her body was moving to Ruby's coaxing before she had time to analyze the situation. They tugged her down so her elbow held her weight, and with wide fingers behind her head guided her lips to theirs. The heat of their mouth, damp with the rain but still cracked and unkempt, begged her attention. She licked at the soft folds and whimpered with a shaky exhale, running her own hand along the taut curves of their neck. Ruby's pulse fluttered under her fingers, a heavy, fast pounding. She stroked the soft skin there mindlessly, drawing patterns of disbelief and request. Their lips pressed gently to each other, hyper-aware of the difference in feeling without alcohol clogging the taste or sensation. Sapphire pushed in, wanting so badly to meet the tongue still hid from her reach, and Ruby's hips rose once again against her. Something that could almost be called a moan gasped from her mouth; any embarrassment sparked by the sound only grew when Sapphire realized Ruby was turning away and cringing again, and had lifted their body in discomfort. She dare not close the distance for another kiss then. Swallowing the two different breeds of chagrin, she pushed herself free from Ruby's grip and carefully climbed from the tangle they had become on the school grounds.

A slow breath rose and fell in Ruby's chest, their head turned to the side. Without turning to face her flustered expression, they asked quietly, “Do y'wanna come to my place?”

The sensible part of Sapphire's brain appeared to be taking a vacation today. Stuffing her jittery hands in her pockets, she nodded, and the hair that had gone wild in front of her face quivered with the movement.

“Please.”


	7. Flinging Noodles By Moonlight

  
_What is the state of your heart?_   
_Is it concave?_   
_Are you awake?_   


Ruby hated horror movies. The one time they'd been rounded into watching _Evil Bear II: Bearly Alive_ with a handful of high school acquaintances, and not daring to appear anything less than bemused with the gore, they had purposely volunteered themself as snack caddy, had chugged water mercilessly so they would have to go pee every twenty minutes, and had started up an intense conversation about the pros and cons of eating orange peels to the person sitting behind them on the couch whilst a character on screen had had their leg eaten. Ruby's chosen victim was visibly frustrated with their interruption, but their intense stare had held a not-so-subtle threat should she not indulge the debate. (Ruby would forever associate orange juice with guttural screaming.) The genre did nothing but make them uncomfortable and paranoid. Even now, squinting their way back home in the rain, part of Ruby's psyche was insisting that the arguing voices in their head were the soft mutterings of a poltergeist from the swingset they and Sapphire had tipped over.

To be fair, they hadn't really broken the thing, and had together pushed it back onto its rusty feet. But still a dispute ran rampant in Ruby's head, in multiple berating voices that couldn't have all been their own. Some were crude and clapping them on the back, as if to say, “Congrats, it's about time you brought a girl home!”; another wailed over Ruby's stunned choice of words from when they had laid sprawled on the dirt, moaning, “Why would you say something like that? What do you even _mean_ by that?”; a silvery, ethereal voice wavered over them and assured that their phrasing was a slip of the tongue and had been only innocent; a dark cackling below their stomach determined it was anything _but_ innocent, and that there would be a time and place more appropriate for tongue slipping.

Ruby was good at two things, decidedly: fixation and self-criticism.

The voices, true to their birthplace of cinematographic fright, followed Ruby like a shadow, past countless blocks of houses and crumbling sidewalk curbs. They wiped at the water pooling in the cupid's bow of their lips, blinking through the fog for familiar landmarks, though their feet moved mostly on autopilot. They came to another fence, and scaled its face without thinking about much beside avoiding the sharp points of clipped links; when a careful hand patted their calf, Ruby screeched and flung themself over the top, heart hammering and ready to run for their life. Their jacket hooked on the barbed edge, and as their shoulder was yanked painfully in its socket, Ruby met the cringing expression of the girl they'd completely forgotten was tagging along on their walk.

“Shut up,” they grumbled, fumbling their sleeve free of the fence's bite. She nodded pointedly at the gate right next to them, and with an embarrassed groan Ruby untwisted the spool of copper filament that had sewn it shut on their side. Sapphire strolled through the door as though its loud creak were the blare of trumpets announcing a queen, her hands folded daintily in front of her and amused smile creeping at the corners of her lips.

The car passing by had much less appreciation for her majesty, and though Ruby wanted to enjoy the quick-cycling karma, they cringed when brown water from the street burst from underneath its wheels like the spray of a pressure-washer and drenched Sapphire's entire right side. They stared disbelievingly when, instead of turning to them with hunched shoulders supporting startled fingers and a surprised “oh my god” expression, the thinner woman hoisted her bangs from her face, glared at the bleeding tail-lights of the fleeing vehicle, and swore under her breath. Shaking her sleeves, she turned to Ruby with a sigh.

“It's not like I wasn't wet already, I guess.”

If there was ever a line to soften a first impression of a princess, it followed that format of casuality. Ruby snorted, and jogged ahead, leaping into the first available puddle with both feet. Water splattered up their jeans and made sunken rafts of their sneakers, and tiny beads shot towards Sapphire enthusiastically.

“You've-” they called, dashing to the next nearest pool, “Got-” spinning like an oversized top, Ruby slammed their sodden feet into a puddle deeper than expected, and water washed up their legs and across their balancing arm, making them squawk, “A point!”

Sapphire darted at them, her gold hair flying like a fervent banner, and shoved past their hand into the first puddle. She yelled as her white shoes sunk into it, and the dirty water stained them the colour of tea. Grunts mottled the air as she hopped like an enraged rabbit, and liquid flew from beneath her as muddy comets defying gravity. Ruby stared. Another car whizzed by, honking, and appeared to break Sapphire from her tirade; she paused with one foot held aloft, glanced back up at the world, and slowly melted back into embarrassed rest.

Ruby decided then that they liked the wild puddle-smashing Sapphire much better than the indifferent facade she presented every day, and quickly gave her a push to restart the mood. They tore into the next tiny sea of stagnant water, gliding through it as if their shoes were miniature water skis. A roar came from behind them, and thin hands swatted at their arm as Sapphire took off for the next goal, skipping through a series of tiny pools as if she were playing hopscotch. Cackles bubbled up in Ruby's throat as they raced her for the next dip in the pavement where a miniature lake had formed, and when she side-checked them out of the way, Ruby stumbled forward into the next and kicked the water at her. She squealed at them, and the grin on her face could have rivaled the sun for intensity.

The sun took offense, evidently, because the clouds washed away in a smooth breath to expose them, screaming like children in a sparkling concrete playground, to her light, and watched over them for the rest of the way home.

By the time Ruby was kicking the front door of their basement apartment open – because the old wood always swelled and stuck in humidity, they explained – both women were inarguably soaked. The tips of Sapphire's hair dripped, hanging down to the small of her back. Her shoes had been turned brown. Ruby could feel the tee shirt underneath their sweater sticking to their stomach, and their jeans had been chafing their thighs for ten minutes straight. They exhaled the last of their giggles and willed the slight anxiety of showing off their homestead to go with it, then swung the door with a flourish.

“Welcome to the Bachelor Pad,” they announced, watching Sapphire step slowly across the threshold and trying to judge her reaction, “If we're lucky, I remembered to tidy up. If we're not, sorry in advance.”

“It's cute,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder into the narrow kitchen whilst she pulled off her soggy sneakers. Ruby took her jacket when she slipped it free of her shoulders, and hung it up quickly, so as not to miss a moment of Sapphire's inspection. She carefully padded across the laminate checkers of the kitchen floor, head swiveling to take in the sun-bleached wood of the cabinets and mismatch of dishes in the drying rack by the sink. She studied the magnets on the yellowed refrigerator (it had come with the place, and the Mayor Dewey magnets were free, but the aesthetic was still cringe-worthy), and hummed at the secondhand couch and sad excuse for a coffee table in the second room. Ruby darted past her to snatch up the neglected cereal bowl and the raunchy magazine Io had lent them, and just as speedily ducked into the hall to dump them in their room, grimacing.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” came Sapphire's quiet voice from next to the sofa, “I'm dripping everywhere.”

“I'll grab you something dry to wear, hang tight!” Ruby launched themself into their cramped bedroom (most of the room _was_ bed – single apartments didn't often have bedrooms, though, so they savoured the privacy anyway), kicked a few discarded dirty shirts and a bra into the corner, and stuffed a hand into their creaky wooden dresser. Organization had never been their strong suit – the single drawer produced a pair of overall-shorts, a snapback ball cap, three black, lacy thongs, and a sweater they'd ripped the sleeves off before they found less offensive attire for their guest. They hastily dredged up a pair of slouchy pants and a tee for themself, and launched their wet clothes into a section of the floor not already covered. Turning the corner, they tossed the long black shirt and shorts at Sapphire before they realized that she'd been holding something else.

“Tell me you're not actually watching _Lunar Guardian,_ ” she prompted, fumbling to sort the pile of cloth from a pile of plastic CD cases, all filled with discs Ruby had handwritten titles and numbers on. They scoffed, arms propped akimbo, gut fluttering with mild embarrassment.

“It was a good show, okay? You put away that judging smile!”

“Whatever you say,” Sapphire demurred, though the grin on her face drew wider. She stepped into the bathroom when Ruby gestured down the hall with a grunt, and snorted behind the door when Ruby shouted, “You don't know what you're missing!” They dug through the pile of cases with fervor, heat rising in their cheeks, pressed one of their favourite discs into their Gamesquare with nervous fingers, and slapped the buttons on the controller to bring the episode to life. They fiddled with the cord as the intro theme began to play. Somewhere down the hall, water ran, and a door clicked open.

“Where should I put these?” their guest asked, holding up a pile of clothing, which, Ruby was quick to note, contained a silky blue brassier. They flapped a hand at the wall behind Sapphire to direct her to the hamper, promised to throw them in the wash, and then patted the floor at their side. They didn't miss the slight eye roll behind her dark eyelashes as she knelt. Ruby pointed at their small television and quickly glanced between the pretty woman and washed out animation on the screen, eyebrows raised, as if breaking up a fight.

“Okay, you like noodles?”

“I- what?” Sapphire flicked her bangs sideways, staring at them. This was obviously not the type of comment she had been expecting.

“Noodles. Do you eat them?”

“Yes?”

“Good. Alright, you and Unagi here are going to get acquainted,” Ruby wiggled their finger, tracing the heroine's face on the title screen, “While I make us food. Sit tight.”

With that, Sapphire was left to her own devices. 

It didn’t take Ruby long to assemble their dinner, mostly because there wasn’t much else in their cupboards save dried ramen packets, cinnamon, and an expired barbeque sauce bottle that their mother had given them after deciding she didn’t like reduced fat condiments. Ruby hadn’t had much oomph left in their system after meeting with Sapphire and her grey-haired chaperone in the grocery store last Friday, so had only purchased the most exquisite standard in college student fare: noodles and potato chips. (The blueberries were hastily shoved in the hippie food freezer, lest someone discover how badly their basket-rocking and sprinkle jar-dumping had mangled the tiny fruits into a paste.) It wasn’t much in the way of nutrition, but calorie-wise they were living the dream, and their wallet hadn’t suffered for the purchase. There was, however, the realization that Sapphire probably wouldn’t think them very classy.

Then again, she was curled up watching twenty year old cartoons with her arm braced on a table made of milk crates. Ruby wasn’t exactly setting the bar high in any category.

They dropped into a cross-legged position next to her a precise twelve minutes later with both hands holding steaming bowls of pre-fab macaroni and cheese, and Sapphire licked her lips after the first bite, which they took as a good sign. She made no mention of the mismatched set of containers and utensils Ruby had provided them with – they had made sure she got the big fork anyway. On screen, the heroine and her team of masquerading vigilantes struck a pose, and the colours glazed across the wet noodles in Ruby’s bowl. Sapphire hummed appreciatively. 

“It’s the butter,” they assured her, digging into the creaminess of their own meal with a tiny plastic spoon, “It makes it smooth. Uh, sorry if you’re lactose intolerant. We only serve the most ill-thought-out here at Château Ruby.”

“I haven’t had this in forever,” she replied, waving her fork for emphasis; one of the bits of pasta her impliment had captured whipped through the air and stuck to Ruby’s face, who dropped their spoon in surprise as she pointed at the television and added, “Or this. Where did you even find this show? It stopped running before I started middle school.”

“Internet,” Ruby offered, noisily sputtering curls from their mouth in their quest for a noodle-free visage. Sapphire turned at the sound, snorted, and reached for them. Her palm steadied their shoulder, and lean fingers delicately plucked the offending food bit from beside their lips. She promptly threw it on the floor. Ruby stared, and the cartoon on TV complimented the action with a dramatic, “How dare you!”

“You come into my house, throw food on my floor–” Ruby started, caught somewhere between amusement and agitation, though leaning towards the former as Sapphire began to turn beet red. She glanced awkwardly at the cheap hardwood, hands lifted daintily and one still holding her fork. Her jaw worked.

“I-it’s not like the floor is clean! There’s an animal cracker over there, and your hair is _everywhere_.”

“Whoa, excuse you, _rud–_ ” 

It was momentarily a phrase of false vexation, but dissolved quickly into laughter on both their parts as Ruby’s jolty movements hit the end of their tiny green spoon and launched three noodles straight into Sapphire’s cheek. One latched onto her hair like an enthusiastic, durum-based Spiderboy; the other two beaned gracefully into her lips and made cheesy trails down her borrowed shirt. She sat stock-still for a moment, ready for her it’ll-last-longer photo. Sapphire plucked the noodles from her clothes and piled them on the table whilst Ruby combed the third from her long golden locks, cringing. Their guest did, thankfully, take a reasonable glance around the floor for the original instigator, smiling apologetically when nothing was found.

Their eyes locked when finally the chortles had faded from them both, and there was a momentary pause before _Lunar Guardian_ ’s theme song began anew.

“I’m all for nostalgia,” Ruby said finally, glancing away and mentally begging the television to help their insides stop flipping, “But I don’t know how much more of this I can do. You understand how good it is now anyway. I mean, besides the campy music.” 

Sapphire smiled, adding, “The animation is terrible.”

“Yeah, you know what? I always hated the zoot suit guy.” They chin-nodded towards the sole male character on screen, standing majestically atop a building with his fedora tilted. “The princess deserved better.” Ruby started when they realized Sapphire was giving them a very pointed stare, one eyebrow raised. “ _What?_ Sailor Ares was much better for her. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Were you on about this even as a kid?” she asked, and something about her tone wasn’t as playful as before. Ruby paused, tapping their spoon against the rim of their bowl. 

“Yes,” they said slowly, “I was always this gay. Thanks for asking.”

“I just… thought you people didn’t want it to define your lives. You’re just like everybody else, right?”

It took all the willpower Ruby had not to launch their bowl at the television to cease the suddenly very irritating battle cries of the characters on screen. Every creak from the upstairs neighbours pierced their eardrums pointedly, as if the building were laughing at them. Sapphire watched them with unblinking eyes, as if trying to scour an answer from their expression alone. It couldn’t have been hard – Ruby could feel their face heating up, preemptive to the roiling in their gut and the angry pressure that had probably forced steam out their ears. They swallowed thickly.

“Wow, Sapphire,” they said finally, and like a hydraulic coil suddenly overpumped, they sprung to their feet with a furious hiss. Their feet pressed into the floor like concrete blocks, heavy and loud. “ _‘You people.’_ ”

The apartment ceased to exist in their peripheral, and the short jaunt to the kitchen became the longest walk of their life, ribbed with jeers from their past and self-beration loud enough to deafen. They made their strides long, grinding their teeth against the prickling in their eyes, and threw their bowl into the sink with just enough force to threaten a shatter. They tore open cabinets and launched a dishcloth and forceful squirt of soap into the basin, and ripped the faucets so quickly that the chipped plastic label on one made the skin of their finger burn. Whether the water was scalding or not they didn’t care; Ruby shoved their hands into the sink and began scrubbing their dish (and the others left there from breakfast) furiously.

“Funny story: it _is_ my life,” Ruby sneered at the residue in a cup used for orange juice, and then the crying started. Goddamn it. They quietly lifted a soapy arm to scrub at their face, cursing the loose tear ducts in their eyes, and grit their teeth at their plastic spoon as if it were the initiator of this whole ordeal. As if the tiny cupcake molded into the end of it were somehow responsible for Ruby’s terrible decision-making and blind trust in people as a whole. As if it had thrown Sapphire in front of them and said, “Keep trying!” As if by bringing it home from that one 3AM froyo trip they had cursed themself, and they could scrub away the evil if they pressed hard enough with their scratchy washcloth and repeated enough prayers for peace.

_Our mother, who art in the universe, pissed as she is with me, thy target is this spoon, a devil in plastic and likely lead-painted clothing, whom I should probably snap and bury in the park before I give up flirting and become a nun…_

The noisy rolling of a kitchen drawer woke Ruby from their hazy tirade, and they tossed the now-bent utensil into the dish rack with one hand while wiping their face with the other. Staring resolutely at the bubbles, they mumbled, “What, looking for more _you people_ things?”

“Look,” came the feather-soft reply as hesitant hands pulled dishes from Ruby’s side and lean fingers wrapped in a towel began wiping them dry, “I don’t understand.”

Ruby snorted affirmatively.

“...Sailor Ares _was_ probably better for the princess, though.”

The tension in Ruby’s shoulders slipped towards their feet like melted snow, and two final hot tears splashed into the washing water, taking the sharp pain in their chest with them. Ruby took a slow breath and glanced sidelong at Sapphire, who stood clutching a plate to her breast, gaze reproachful. They sighed, wiping a hand on their forehead.

“Yeah, well, the princess is damn lucky Ares is so generous as to take the couch so she can have the cushy bed, even with her questionable rule.”


	8. The Only Bait In Town

_None of us ever felt beautiful_  
_Telling secrets in the backseat confessional_  
_Couldn’t understand the meaning of our glory days_  
_But we’ll never get old_  


Cartoon characters had never done much for Sapphire. They were a means to an end - a way to tell a larger story, set like chess pieces in a black and white world, homogenous in traits and directive. She was completely contented without knowing anything overly personal about them. Unlike the people in her novels, who had hundreds of pages dedicated to their thoughts and ambitions, and whom she could grow increasingly in love with at her own pace, the cartoonish figures used for animation were clear-cut, flat, and glaringly expressive so as not to confuse young viewers of their lawfulness. Should a character appear burly, he was strong. Should he be square-jawed and articulate, he was respectable. His state of dress was directly indicative of his personality type, and his choice of weaponry aligned him firmly as either good, bad, or bad-and-going-to-be-converted. 

Still, after five hours of inspecting Whiz Lightspeed and his dim green numerical screen from across the dark room, Sapphire was starting to feel as if she were misjudging in her assumptions. He could have been a tortured, lonely soul, left in space by humans who dreamed of a better life for their dying planet, or of a bright, inventive future, for all she knew. He could be corrupt in his heroic appearance, ready to follow in his father’s footsteps and transform into the evil leader of a new era. He could, at any time, drop his wings and jet fuel and profess his intent to never fly again, for he had found love on a grassy planet, and had never much enjoyed the void anyway.

Perhaps she and the cartoon astronaut had more in common than she wanted to accept.

Turning away was like flinching from the unimaginative strength of a black hole; when Sapphire rolled onto her stomach under the sheets and began flicking through Facespace on her phone, the hour struck and Whiz’s wings shot out to either side of his spacesuit with a loud click that had her heart pounding. When she tried to stare past the astronaut, the digital numbers at his feet began blurring into each other, and without her realization Sapphire was soon doing her best to create 8s with the digits and her unfocused vision. Instead of counting sheep to pass the time and – hopefully – lull her into dreamland, she counted blinks of the two dots between hour and minutes, and used the tempo as a backbeat to her humming of a song she’d learned in elementary school about how to spell “chicken”. 

She sighed just as the first tendrils of dawn were grasping the sheets around her ankles, and kicked off the rosy light in a last defiance that fine, she would face the day without a lick of sleep. 

Navigating Ruby’s creaky apartment without making the dips of the floorboards groan or the bathroom sink faucet squeal was what Sapphire soon realized to be impossible, so washed her face with the icy cold water grimacing the whole while. She whispered an apology when she had to dig around the plastic storage bins from her seat on the porcelain throne after noticing the toilet paper roll hung empty, and another when borrowing a severely stretched out hair tie to secure the end of her braid. She gave Whiz one last stink-eyed look as she tiptoed out into the darkness of Ruby’s kitchen, and but nonetheless nodded thankfully at him for letting her know it was just after 6AM.

Ruby was snoring. But with respect to the normal timbre of their voice, the gentle huffs of air were nothing compared to the sounds Sapphire’s father made. They were almost sighs; soft noises from the direction of the couch that let the world know it wasn’t just the dripping pipes and scuttling silverfish under the countertops that lived there. They shifted as Sapphire slipped by their feet, one leg jutting out over the arm of the sofa as if lazily reaching for her, and their eyes rolled under their long lashes, but Ruby didn’t wake. Sapphire decided to keep it that way, considering the time. She settled herself slowly onto the one other decent piece of furniture in the room, what must have once been a tweed armchair Ruby collected from an old lady, tucked her knees up, and began flipping through her phone messages on what little battery still powered it.

_[12:45PM] fr Eme: Giirl tell me u read the new 50 tints book Soda and I r laughing_

_[12:48PM] fr Eme: u could learn sommin!!! :P_

_[12:49PM] fr Sodali: Dont let Em be a bitch 2 you_

_[12:49PM] fr Sera: bb look Im not tellin ur parnts where u gone but u O me.. Im worried bout u! Send me a txt so i no ur safe!!!_

_[12:50PM] fr Sodali: Someboi gonna love u 4u ok U dont need 2 b kinky_

_[1:01PM] fr Sera: Im gon b wit the gurls latr you gotta promise_

_[1:02PM] fr Sera: ILU sappy_

_[1:05PM] fr Eme: butt plugs on pool tabels BB u no u want that lol ;D_

_[1:05PM] fr Eme: srsly u gotta read this wit us too funny!!!_

Ruby snuffled in their sleep, and Sapphire dropped her phone into her lap with a tiny exasperated groan. Between her nettlesome friends and their adventures with badly-written “mommy porn” and Sera’s obvious concern for her, what she could only describe as a knot of anxiety had settled primly in her gut. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to face breathy readings about “inner divinity” and heterosexual fornication over billiard tables; knowing she would have to approach Sera about her sudden flight from the coffee shop and sleepover at Ruby’s house - and about Ruby themself - was nauseating. She glanced at her host, whose face had become completely smushed on one side from the way they were laying, and ruefully wondered, _Couldn’t you just be another normal friend?_

The thought had done laps in her mind all night, much to Whiz Lightspeed’s apparent enjoyment. No matter how Sapphire tried to quiet her thoughts, the checklist of her concerns kept making an appearance and reviewing its points. She fiddled with the hem of the shirt she had borrowed from Ruby and decided now was as good a time as any to settle her nerves. 

“Ruby?” She called shyly, throat thick from first morning use. With no reaction, Sapphire slowly climbed from her perch in the orangey loveseat and crept towards the woman, crouched low as if someone were going to be peering in the tiny holes the basement apartment apparently considered windows and sniping her. She sat like a frog in front of her sleeping host, chewing her lip, and called their name again.

Ruby barely twitched. Their curls lay wildly around them, sheltering them from her voice. The patchy heat on their cheeks betrayed their deep sleep, and the breath from between their parted lips whistled softly as it passed their teeth. It was only when Sapphire, lost in observing, tucked the fleeing strands of her own braid behind her ear that they hummed, nuzzling into the well-worn pillow they had wrapped their arms around. She swallowed and called again, “Ru?”

To her surprise, the woman’s eyes flickered open immediately, intent and focused as a crocodile’s. Drowsiness may have lain heavy on their curled limbs and reddened skin, but the fire that powered them had been kickstarted as if drowned in gasoline. They blinked once, and their pupils constricted to lock on her. Sapphire’s stomach flipped at how reminiscent the stare was of the photo from Clickchat she had saved, and yet how much more intense. 

“Good morning,” she croaked, and Ruby melted back into gentleness. They moaned, stretching their arms outward. Sapphire flopped onto her bottom, nerves having swept her legs from under her.

“Hey,” they replied, grin refuting the dawn light for the title of brightest, “How’d you sleep?”

Sapphire shrugged, attempted a smile, rolled the handful of words on her mind with her tongue, and eloquently spat out, “Why do you want to be around me?”

The pattern of expressions Ruby’s face went through would be brilliantly entertaining if not for the self-beration kicking Sapphire from the inside and anxiety distracting her. Their eyebrows shot up into the forest of their hair in surprise, and their lips pursed. A moment later, they were wide-eyed and grimacing. A blink after that, they were offering her a shaky smile that morphed into a nervous cackle. Their fingers twisted themselves in the fuzzy blanket they had buried their body in, and a potent colour had bled into every curve of their facial structure, from their neck to their ears.

“Uhhh,” Ruby offered, “I think you’re interesting?”

“Why?” she countered immediately, heartbeat fluttering so uncomfortably Sapphire felt weak. 

“Er, because you’re, um, pretty? But not just because you’re pretty! Uh, you’re, like, graceful and smart and you were so t-talkitive when we were, um, at the dock and- err- this is a lot for right after waking up!” Flustered, Ruby collapsed back into their pillow and pulled the blanket over their face, voice pitching as they added, “Haven’t you just hung out with people before because you felt like it?”

Sapphire stared at the knot of fabric where Ruby’s hands gripped, and said simply, “No, when would I have ever?”

“With your friends? You know, sit around, go for a walk together, read shitty magazines while somebody else plays _Call of Battle_ and put your feet in their lap?”

Sapphire’s silence seemed to speak for itself; Ruby’s eyes peeked out from behind their hands and the wall of cotton and the frown that graced their face creased the bridge of their nose until it looked as though something behind the blanket stunk. She blinked back at them, limply wishing she could seep through the floorboards and disappear. Fortunately for her, her phone chose that moment to chime out and announce a new message; Sapphire turned away from her host’s curious stare and flicked at the screen.

_[6:58AM] fr Sera: Ive been so worried about u I didnt sleep. Called ur house and ur mom said u didnt cum home. Soda covered 4 u but I need to see u 2DAY. Anser me OK??? Dont make me drive around town like a background bitch n get home asap!! :( :( ___

____

____

Sapphire tapped the phone against her collarbone with a sigh, and swiveled her head so she could look at the floor beneath Ruby’s watch and let her bangs conveniently shield her from their eyes. 

“I should probably head home,” she murmured, and when Ruby nodded awkwardly and stood to give her privacy (and make the Morning Bathroom Trip), she typed a quick, _I’m ok, C u tonite,_ and buried her face in the seat of the chair.

From the other room, Whiz Lightspeed's wings clicked loudly.

Though it didn’t say much for men on the subject, it became apparent to Sapphire that chivalry, despite all the complaint, wasn’t entirely dead. Though Ruby admitted they had no vehicle with which to give her a ride, they had every intention of seeing her home safe, even in the face of their awkwardness with each other. They had thrown on a pair of shorts and what could only be called a sweater lacking sides, for where the arms should have been were instead gaps that gave Sapphire a not-unpleasant look at their hipbones and the Chantilly lace of a black bra. Their mane of hair had been carefully swept to one side with a small army of pins, which glittered as they strode through a patch of sunlight and announced to her that her clothes were clean, they were ready to leave whenever, they had nothing to offer for breakfast, unfortunately, and had she seen their glasses, because they were blind as a bat without them. They paced quietly in the kitchen, hands in their pockets, until she had redressed in the previous day’s now-dry clothes, and gestured her out the door with a low bow and a flourished, “Ladies first.”

Sapphire couldn’t say she was quite the most polite of company, however, being completely lost in her thoughts. Her hands lay folded in front of her as she walked, fingers twined together as if subtly praying for answers. Though she could hear Ruby’s feet beside her kicking dried leaves from the gutter and using tiny stones as footballs, she hadn’t dared look up at them. For one, she wasn’t sure how to continue – or fully drop – their wakeup conversation, and was flipping the concept of hanging out because one wanted to over and over in her mind. Sapphire was very fond of her friends, and enjoyed her time with them. They had spent many a night rolled up together in Sera’s childhood sea of plush toys, and adult evenings on the town green, dancing until their ears rang. Sapphire had learned to paint colours across her eyelids and turn her lips vivid reds with Sodali’s patient instruction, and had followed Eme breathlessly through the small local mall on her first shopping trip for clothes and not Beany Buddies. They had clearly defined her budding adult life. But there was curiosity and something like shame behind the adventures, considering what Ruby had said – had she ever willingly gone to be with her friends because she wanted to? Because it seemed like a fun, or soothing, or comfortable thing to do?

“Hello?” said Ruby suddenly, and Sapphire jolted out of her haze with a question on her lips, but let the sound die when she realized her companion had fished out their cellphone and held it to their ear. “Yeah, I’m out. Yeah. No, yeah, I can probably do that. Do you need me right away? Alright, cool. Catch you.” They glanced her way hesitantly, and to her added, “Do you mind if we stop by the rec center down the hill?”

The idea originally was for Ruby to take her home – entirely, devotedly, all the way home. Upon such a request, Sapphire had thought that perhaps she’d simply excuse herself and take the bus the rest of the way. After all, lesbians were supposed to be all about gender nonconformant date protocols and feminism, right? However, having walked across the crumbling pavement in front of a pale building (whose peeling paint was revealing a very curious bright aqua layer beneath) and watching enough children for a little league soccer team come rushing at them and bury Ruby like an ant in a sandstorm proved too entertaining to convince Sapphire’s feet to continue on. She covered the disbelieving grin that had bloomed on her face and smothered a laugh as one of Ruby’s hands burst from the pile and scooped around the waist of the nearest small body.

Screeched battle cries mixed with giggles in the crowd as the children, all somewhere between toddlerdom and elementary school-age rolled on top of the woman, and Ruby’s high-pitched voice blended with the masses so perfectly Sapphire could only imagine their calls for help. At some point their loose sneaker became dislodged, and several children ran off with it, the leader with the shoe tucked under their arm like a rugby ball. Only when a loud, “Ouch!” pierced its way through the swarm did Ruby unearth themselves; one of the smaller girls in the group had her teeth firmly latched on their arm.

“Sugi,” Ruby said, in a voice more stern than anything Sapphire had heard them use, and something of the sound made her shiver, “No, Bayley, stop, I’m talking – Sugi, what did I say about biting?”

The pudgy child on their forearm, whose short purple dress had been fluffed up around her waist, seemed to sport multiple rows of teeth. The velcro lacing on her shoes had come haphazardly undone, ready to scratch whatever skin they could find, and upon her wild black hair was what appeared to be a foam sunhat shaped like a shark. Her nails had dug slightly into Ruby’s arm where she held on like a barnacle, scab-covered arms defiantly squeezed tight. Ruby reached over with their free arm and laid a gentle hand on her stubby fingers. 

“What did I say?” they repeated, and though her grip remained determined, the small girl unlocked her jaw from their now spit-coated limb and snorted, “Don’ chew on people ‘cause it ain’t nice!” 

“And it hurts,” Ruby nodded, poking her nose. “You wouldn’t want me to bite you, right?”

“Your mouth ain’t strong enough, Ruby-boobie!” she shouted, which instantly kicked the quieted crowd into full gear again. Undeterred, Ruby spread their arms wide and gathered up as many of the tiny people as they could, locking them in a round, giggly, iron embrace. Sugi was still wrapped around their arm like she had been hog-tied, right up until Ruby attempted to tell the crowd what they had come to visit for. Before the words, “Does anybody know–” had fully hit air, Sugi was staring delightedly – and ferally – up at Sapphire and yelling, “Another one! Get’r!”

Sapphire had very little experience with children. At church, she had once or twice helped shoo the young attendees to a back room for Sunday schooling, and passed out coloured papers and glitter to their waiting, sticky hands. She knew one fourth grader personally, as her mother babysat the neighbors’ daughter Citrine twice a week. But on both occasions Sapphire had been an assistant to the primary caretaker, and a wall of tiny creatures, all yelling and dashing for her legs, was quite a different experience. She took one hesitant, flinching step back before Ruby shouted, “STOP!” and the group froze.

Quite humourously, actually. Half the children were balancing on one foot; one of the taller was windmilling their arms to keep their balance. Still sitting with their legs spread before them, leaning on their arms, Ruby added, “What does stop mean?”

“Stop means STOP!” shouted the children, a few voices exuberantly squawking over the rest, “And no means NO!” Ruby jabbed a finger at Sapphire.

“Do you want to be tackled?” they shouted at her pointedly. Sapphire took the hint, and cleared her throat. Her voice came out softer than intended, but her clear, “No thank you,” deterred the kids enough that a groan rippled through their collective mass, and feet once again met the ground. A couple broadly-grinning boys did still smush their faces into her legs with affectionate, trusting gusto, and one waddling toddler bapped her knee with a tiny fist and angelic roar, but for the most part Sapphire found she could once again breathe. Ruby pushed themself to their feet and brushed off their legs. 

“You have such a way with animals,” slipped from the backlogs of Sapphire’s brain and onto her tongue before she’d fully registered that it might be rude; Ruby’s surprised expression and quirky cackle made her no less weak in the knees than the way their fingertips brushed her elbow.

“C’mon, I’ve gotta run inside for a sec.”

Had she ever made it into the building, Sapphire might have been mildly put off by its low ceilings and dark lighting, and the soft scent of stagnancy. Of the curtains that had never once been dusted or washed in their sixty years, and the haphazard dents and mismatched paint jobs of the interior, beat down with activity. The maze that made up the building’s stairs and tunnels and crooked doorways could have felt a little magical, however, and Ruby’s affectionate commentary could have brought the history to life. As it was, they darted away with a laugh, a promise, and shouted apology, and Sapphire was left outdoors on the worn out basketball court with a cage of curious stares around her feet. 

“What’s your name, lady?”

“Do you wanna hold the ball? Trona’s gonna run over there and you gotta kick it to her.”

“How come you know Ruby? Do you go to her school?”

“Ruby’s a they, you dummy!”

“TAG, YOU’RE IT! You’re the base!”

“Do you go to they school?”

Sapphire had never been the center of so much attention. Small hands gripped at her coat and pinky finger, toys were thrust into and taken out of her hands, voices bombarded her with questions and instructions alike. Some of the older children seemed to be trying to demonstrate their maturity by telling her about their newly-pierced ears and outfits, or their medals from track meets, or how the child in the red shirt was their annoying little sister. Somewhere by her side, a curious voice shouted an inquisition about her malformed eye. Sapphire felt as though she were in a swarm of bees, all noise and constant movement. She was about to attempt Ruby’s “no” trick when the group scattered like flies.

“SHARK ATTACK!” came their voice, a holler amongst buzzing. Shrieks numbed Sapphire’s ears, and she startled back as Ruby stumbled to a stop in front of her. Their eyes glittered with energy, grin crinkling them mischievously. “Don’t get chomped!”

With their arms extended in front of them like great jaws, fingers curled, Ruby began skulking around what had become their playground, humming the iconic theme from the movie _Maw_. The children around them darted like schools of fish in their wake, shoving each other anxiously and screeching with laughter. Sapphire stood stock-still, watching, until an excited girl in glasses bumped into her leg, grabbed her hand, and threw all her miniature body weight into towing her to safety. Ruby, meanwhile, had scooped two little ones into their arms and exclaimed something about having converted them to their team.

“Dun dun dun dun– better run, Sapphire!” Ruby called, now with an army of assorted company in tow. Giddy nerves welled up in her gut and encouraged her feet to fly; with an “Eep!” of her own, Sapphire grabbed more tightly to her small new friend’s hand and they dashed together towards an outcrop of rock. It had been so long since Sapphire had played like this, but clearly her elementary school instincts hadn’t been lost. Together they clambered up, and soon Sapphire found herself balancing on a fine edge of stone, with Ruby and their company muttering about the safe zone and loudly making plans of attack for the moment any of them slid back down into the “water”. Ruby caught her eye and winked. A soft heat made itself at home in Sapphire’s cheeks, and she ducked her head.

“LAND SHARK!” was the only warning she had before baby teeth latched onto her knuckles; Sapphire yelped and stumbled backwards, Sugi the Teether determinately connected to her hand, and Ruby’s voice called frustratedly, “We just went over this! Sapphire, bite her back, will you?”

Instead, Sapphire, now gracefully sprawled on her back and fingers covered in spit, stared up at the chubby cheeks of her attacker, who was watching her with arms folded. One of the buckles on her purple overall-dress had come undone, and her disheveled hair was sticking to her mouth. The rips in her tights presented her as more than a bit of a roughhouser, but the gap-toothed smile she offered as she turned to shout at the crowd proved she wasn’t hard to win over.

“Rubes, I ate her, but this one is good. You should marry her.”

Ruby slapped their palm over one side of their face, grinning apologetically. They had gone rather red under the melanin.

“Not very good at pretend, though.”


	9. Sublet: 15 Classroom, Furniture Included

  
_I offer souvenirs_  
_A deaf tongue and blinded ears_  
_Can you fill the shelves in here?_  
_Come in, come in_  


“When you’re married, are you gonna wear a suit? ‘Cause sometimes girls wear suits when they marry girls. That’s what the TV said, anyway. I watched a wedding show with a wedding with girls.”

“It’s gotta be a nice suit, though! Maybe a pink one!”

“I don’t think pink suits are a real thing, Trona.”

“They could be,” Ruby supplied offhandedly, sighing quietly in the direction of what felt like the most endless hallway on Earth. The sound reverberated back at them like hissed laughter, mocking their short legs’ inability to outrun companions less than half Ruby’s age. They marched determinedly forward, strides as wide and quick as they could muster, but one child held on to their right hand with a grip like the Jaws of Life, and the other was matching their pace with sheer willpower (and an overnight leg-bound growth spurt, probably). 

“Maybe we could _make_ one!” Maline supplied, the sudden idea putting a spring into her already impressive steps. The wild poof of her hair, brushed just that morning - she swore! - whapped Ruby’s skin, as if it were another excited hand matching the two that latched onto their arm. She was nearly tall enough to grapple Ruby’s shoulder; though she hadn’t quite hit puberty, Ruby had a feeling the trusting girl was going to fill out like an hourglass and be heads taller than them, and made a mental note to teach her how to throw a man while she was still too weak to dislocate something of their petite anatomy. “Ruby, can I make you one?”

Ruby hooked a hand around one of the rusting poles that held up the asbestos-caked ceiling, and spun the three of them around the corner and into the next hall. Trona’s whoop and the squeak of Ruby’s sneakers scuffing the laminate floor announced their presence to the dust bunnies living behind the long, orangey-brown curtains, and kicked up enough fluff to build another. The space both behind and before them offered no audible response to their noise; the ancient property, once an elementary school, had long since been abandoned by the county and left to the underfunded and volunteer-run dregs of the populace to do as they wished with. Should a health inspector ever cross the premises, the Blue Diamond Excel Kindergarten was doomed to displacement, but it was unlikely anyone beyond desperate working parents knew or would care that the program was held there. For the time being and the foreseeable future, especially with most of the children outside screaming bloody murder and chasing each other around questionable play equipment, they were the only people in the ghost town of former classrooms.

Trona let go of Ruby’s hand long enough to scoop up a salamander from behind one of the baseboards and chase a few potato bugs around with her finger, as if to remind them that they were the only humans here, but not the only things alive.

“I won’t have anywhere to wear a tux, kid. I’m not actually getting married to anyone,” they replied finally, leaning into doorways and browsing for non-insect lifeforms, “Have you seen Petra around?”

“You are so gonna get married, Ruby-boobie,” Trona quipped, returning to their side and offering the tiny amphibian she’d found for viewing, “We decided Sapphire is the best of all the ladies we picked out for you, ‘cause she played Shark.”

“All the other ladies you picked out were magazine cutouts. Not much competition.”

“But she’s the _prettiest_ of the ladies we picked out, too. Even if they could play Shark. She said when you brought her back she’d braid my hair so it’d go all wavy like hers!” Startled, Ruby paused in their search and stared at Maline, feeling pleased despite their exasperation. Warmth filled their chest and bled down to their toes, and their skin prickled. 

“When? She wanted to come back?” they asked, voice pitched with hope. Both girls looked up at their struggling composure, and, as though they had practiced, donned identical amused expressions. The curve of Maline’s not-yet-obvious hip jutted to the side and she propped a hand upon it; Trona folded her arms as best she could with the tiny salamander still held carefully in one palm. The cheekiness apparent in their raised eyebrows and quirked lips made Ruby blush; awkwardly, they straightened up and stuffed their jittery fingers in their pockets.

“Yeah,” the taller of the girls continued, rolling her eyes, “She really, really liked us. You were just okay. Maybe we can make her like you, since we’re such good wingmen.”

“Wingladies!” Trona corrected.

“Har-har,” Ruby grumbled, spinning on their heel and continuing their hunt for the matron of the daycare. A thread had come loose in one pocket, and they rolled it between the fingers of one hand. They peered into another classroom. It looked spacious even with its lack of supplies; a handful of old desks had been clustered together in one corner, and chalk still laid across the lip of the chalkboard, ready for use in tutorials fifteen years abandoned. (Still, some of the kindergarten attendees had found better employment for them, and had left multiple doodles and copies of their names in cursive writing on the board to cook in what dusty sunshine made it through the windows.) Chewing their lip, they finally asked, “So… did she say she liked being here?”

“She said,” Maline replied, marching ahead with her index finger held aloft, the picture of a leader addressing troops, “That we were all super nice and you were funny and that she wanted to stay longer, but had to go see _another woman._ ”

Ruby huffed at the folderol, brushing past the younger girl and standing tiptoe to glance into a room where the heavy steel fire door had been shut. Soonafter the game of Shark in the playground, Sapphire had excused herself to walk home, brushing off Ruby’s insistence to accompany her there with something about feminism and knowing how to punch. She had waved a pretty goodbye, squatted down to talk enthusiastically with Maline and a few other girls that had attached themselves to her company like barnacles to a sea stone, and given Sardon, the bespectacled little one who had scarcely let go of Sapphire’s hand since their playground game, an affectionate hug. They had all stood watching her sashay down the sidewalk until the dip of the train tracks crossing the road and following hill swallowed her figure and tucked it into an asphalt embrace.

Ruby’s gang of kindergartners had always been a chummy group – those who arrived from even the most problematic of families quickly found structure and positive companionship in the ranks, and under Ruby’s quarter-weekly guidance became quickly erudite about boundaries and physicality – but even then, their almost-instant attachment to the blond woman had been surprising. Several of the children had immediately turned to Ruby to ask when Sapphire was coming back; Sardon looked positively anguished, which was a striking difference from her usual good humour, and had to be coddled for an hour afterward. It said a lot, Ruby liked to think, about the kind of person Sapphire was, and the kind of person _they_ were for having faith in her; their kids didn’t hold back when they weren’t fond of someone.

The “other woman” joke did bother them, but not for expectable reasons. As much as their troupe of children gave them confidence in Sapphire’s virtue, she had most assuredly been on her way to see her vain best friend, the tall woman with the cement-coloured hair, of whom Ruby was very much not a fan. They might trust Sapphire well enough, but Ruby was very certain their kindergarten charges would not take well to the demanding Seraphina.

“Is this other woman interested in a job?” came a sultry voice from the next open doorway, and despite the gentle tone all three of the companions jumped. Trona’s salamander took a quick flight from her hands and scuttled off immediately after hitting the dusty tile. Ruby tossed the balled thread from their pocket after it; they’d snapped it by accident at the startle.

“Hi, Miss Cullinan,” Maline grinned, quickest to compose herself. She tucked the corybantic flyaways of her short bob behind her ear as best she could, as if willing them to imitate the smooth line of her daycare manager’s hijab. Deep blue fabric cascaded from the curves of the tall woman’s oval face down onto her shoulders like water, and her long dress of a similar but lighter colour just brushed the floor (though the dust had somehow been dispelled from the fringes, not daring to mar her, unlike everyone else). Her dark eyes crinkled at Maline in a smile that didn’t touch her lips, and nodded. Trona had found another floorboard city of insects to poke at, far enough away that her distance from their group seemed entirely accidental; Ruby shook their head knowingly and sighed, “Nah, and you wouldn’t want her.”

“Shame,” Petra hummed, waving Ruby into her office-of-the-day. Maline peered around the doorframe, eager to watch the proceedings, but not daring to follow. It had been an unwritten rule that none of the children should enter the daycare headquarters unless specifically invited, and fear of both the imposing six-foot-something Petra Cullinan and punishment itself were enough to enforce it. (There were probably formal rules printed and stuffed in a drawer somewhere, however the kindergarten official, for all her clean paperwork and tidy desk, loathed putting things away herself, and her hired help could no more organize a filing cabinet than Ruby could play ukulele.) Whether it was because she wanted to use as much as the building’s available space as possible or a simple need for new scenery, Petra was constantly changing where she decided to set up shop; Ruby figured this made the rooms rather unsacrosanct, and made themself at home, all fear of reprimand disregarded. 

Today’s room was one Ruby imagined had been designated for the sixth graders in its time - large, bright, and with tall windows facing out towards the roadside bogs and train tracks, it felt important, as though it were the classroom students in smaller, darker rooms dreamt of graduating to use. The heavy wooden teacher’s desk still stood at the front of the chamber, practically grafted to the floor; one of the lower drawers housed a worn leather crop, ready for use in threats (though said drawer was now firmly locked, because one near-serious injury in the hands of and upon children was enough). Petra had settled herself gracefully into the high-backed chair behind it, and the shades of her clothes nearly camouflaged her against the washed blackboard. Where once the room had desks there was now just space; steel shelving units, perhaps once from the miniscule library, lined the walls, laden with looseleaf and pastel orange campfire notebooks. Formal paperwork for the kindergarten was laid to one side of the abandoned artifacts, though it was hardly more well-kept.

Ruby ran a hand across the slick top of the bureau, then continued a leisurely pace around the perimeter, collecting dust with their fingertips.

“Tell me this Sapphire was someone you were interviewing, then?” Petra questioned again, amusement apparent in her tone as she watched the two young girls in the hall scuttle in and out of view, torn between eavesdropping and requesting attention. Maline waved, and Trona quickly jumped out of sight, swatting her arm in a motion to stop. 

“Nah, she’s… a friend of mine. Was showing her around. I actually just came by to get the resumes I’d left here, but can’t find’m.” They began digging through the stacks of papers on one of the steel racks, attempts at keeping things in order halfhearted. Everything would be jumbled once again when the tall woman at the desk decided to relocate; Ruby had yet to decide if Petra was lazy or just giving her intern something to do, but the frequency of movement of her records suggested she liked to have them close by. “Any idea where they’d be?”

“Akoya could know,” Petra sighed, glancing out the window with a forlorn expression that said _they’re lost forever._ It was doubly lucky that the government had given up on their establishment, otherwise the lack of organization would have gotten them fined years ago, but this was the status quo, and Ruby was beyond used to it. Under piles of student records were pink detention slips, reminders of theme days, a bill from Fish Stew Pizza from last summer, and multiple manila folders, one of which had hearts drawn all over it and was chock-full of clippings from newspapers and fashion magazines. Many of the girls – and some boys – whom Ruby spent their days with had taken it upon themselves to find them a significant other, and knowing Beach City had slim pickings, celebrities and stylish heterosexual teens from $4.99 bathroom readers were the next best bet. Each day saw at least two photos handed to the working staff and tucked away specifically for Ruby to pick through. The support of their coming out was encouraging, but they could have happily done without Petra’s sly looks and her intern’s giggling every time the folder or its contents made an appearance.

Ruby dumped one stack of files on a laminate corner table and began flipping through portfolios dotted with blue sticky notes; on many were scribbled apologies in wiry, slanted cursive, all signed formally with “Akoya “Pearl” Mitsubishi”. For all that the young intern was polite (if a little strange), administration was clearly not one of her strong suits. If Petra felt the resumes were gone, chances are she was right. Still, it was nice to have something to keep their hands busy and their eyes occupied – there were scarcely statues as motionless as the tall woman, even during conversation.

“I don’t suppose you’ve called any of the applicants, like I’d asked?”

“That’s what I was trying to get the files for,” Ruby scoffed, hoisting themself up onto a tabletop to fold their legs and peruse a flowery notebook shoved among the printer pages; they quickly shut it again when the title “Dear Diary,” in the same tilted cursive made itself apparent alongside a recent date. “Kinda running out of time, y’know?” Another soft but overt sigh from across the room reminded Ruby that Petra wasn’t exactly happy about the fact, and she added cheerfully, “There was that Olivine kid.”

“Oh goodness, no.”

“She might be your only option, since everyone else is either missing–” Ruby waved the wad of ledgers in their hands, “–or unavailable once September starts.” 

“Which is why I keep begging you to stay,” Petra lamented.

“And why I keep telling you I can’t. Volunteer work at the local 46 isn’t going to cut it for me, boss. I want to make a career out of this. Downtown’s the only spot with a legitimate full-time station, and the only spot I can take the tests.” 

“I can’t stop you, either,” she finally replied, filling the awkward silence with a gentle smile and shake of her head, “But we will miss your work ethic. You’re certain that friend of yours isn’t interested?”

“I’ll mention it, Petra, how ‘bout that?” Ruby groaned, grinning back. They slapped a sticky note in front of her, decorated with the only name and phone number they could find. Olivine had been whiny, excessively talkative, and a little too enthused about “structured learning” children’s games, but the older kindergarten attendees found her entertaining, and her criminal record was clean. “In the meantime, you’ve got a whole one call to make.” 

Resigned, Petra nodded, and patted Ruby’s hand in something like a farewell gesture.

“Do the children know of your departure yet?” she asked, and behind the formality something in her tone rung warning bells in Ruby’s head. Too late, they realized the reason.

“No, why?”

The woman called two names in the direction of the door, intentionally deaf to Ruby’s jolt and breathy, “No, no, no, oh my god don’t–!” and two small faces peered around the corner, lit with curiousity.


	10. Fire Meet Gasoline

_Girls like us are hardly ever wanted, you know_  
_We’re used up and we’re sad and drunk_  
_And perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up and tell us that we did good_  
_Well, you did good_

Sapphire’s mother loved going to the spa. Though her thick accent and variety of wigs (all styled impeccably but just not quite wefted well enough to look believable) garnered her more attention than most of the customers at The Forge, she had never balked at the stares she received, and it remained her favourite place to spend a little more money than her husband liked in the name of health.

“They’re aestheticians, Sapphire,” she had corrected once, leaning over to admire the glittery blue polish job on her daughter’s tiny hands, and throwing a charming smile at the artist, “Not nail ladies. They’re professionally trained to keep your hands and feet in good shape.”

Health, apparently, had a price tag, but also an appetite for time, and once Sapphire’s feet were cozy in foam slippers and toenails drying with coils of cotton between the digits, she had often excused herself to explore the salon, promising a voice quieter than that of a mouse and steps slowed to no more than a saunter (though how she was supposed to dash around with her toes padded, she had never figured out). The women who ran the place didn’t seem to mind her company - in fact, many had come to know her by name, and took particular interest in the sparkly princess dress she had worn there on her sixth birthday. Polite, demure, and soft-spoken, Sapphire had been often been saved conversation only by arriving clients. A cosmetologist would hand her a cup of lukewarm tea or a mint candy, wave her farewell, and dash off, leaving just enough of a gap in attention that Sapphire might escape the next familiar face.

Those times she did get away, Sapphire found a special pleasure in slipping into the water room. The Forge boasted itself as a wellness centre, and had equipped a large space – often unused – hosting a sauna, hot tub, and shallow pool. The entire place was humid; the moment the frosted glass doors silently shut behind her, Sapphire could feel her nose sweat and her hair begin to frizz. The smell of chlorine tickled her sinuses in equally disgusting and alluring manners, and when she settled herself in one of the lounge chairs by the pool’s edge, legs folded and teacup carefully balanced, the plastic under her rear stuck to her skin. The hum of the pool filter sighed at her, and the water lapped lazily at the tile, just loud enough to echo. It was the skylights, though, that drew her. Two large windows were cut into the ceiling like massive movie screens, perpetually set to the Infinitive Universe channel. On sunny days, white clouds as round and sweeping as the curls of her hair waltzed past, morphing before her eyes into animals and objects on a tapestry of baby blue. Sunlight streamed down through the windows, dappling the water and making her skirt glitter. On dreary days, the whirring of hairdryers behind her were drowned out by the pittering of water droplets, as if the rain were trying to merge with the pool far below, missing its mark, and crying dejectedly as it slid towards the gutters and out of sight. Sometimes Sapphire fell asleep listening, or lost herself in watching the sunlight move. Her mother would come find her once her face was scrubbed clean of imperfections and her fingernails coloured, and the women who worked the desk would give their farewells twice as loudly as the whispers of how strange the “space-out kid” was. Her mother never noticed, but Sapphire had good hearing.

 _Déjà entendu_ hit hard as Sapphire realized she had walked more than three quarters of the way to Seraphina’s house, zoning out about times when she had been zoned out.

Thankfully, she could probably have walked to Seraphina’s house in her sleep, were she so inclined or capable. She was a heavy sleeper, who laid like a silent lump of lead from the moment her head hit the pillow until her alarm chirped at her, so the idea was a little far-fetched. But were she somehow induced into sleepwalking, Sapphire would have bet good money she’d have drowsy knuckles rapping on the pristine white wood of her best friend’s door before she’d have done something as generic as making a sandwich or wandering into her parents’ bathroom. The winding sidewalks that took her there had seen years of different shoes of hers pounding upon them, and striding up the cobblestones in Sera’s lush green lawn was like climbing the stairs to her own bed. The fading plastic flamingos that framed her family’s driveway winked at her with their beady grey eyes, and Sapphire gave the one on her right a friendly rub on the head as she passed. 

A careful two knocks on the door where hardly necessary, but Sapphire was nothing if not a creature of habit. She heard Sera’s, “It’s open!” muffled through her bedroom window upstairs at the prompt, and swung the door in just quickly enough that if her best friend’s mother had been standing just an inch closer, she might have cracked her nose.

“Oh!” Sapphire fumbled, tucking the door closer and trying to squeeze into the building at the same moment Amphitrite took her shoulder to guide her farther in, exclaiming happily about how much Sapphire had grown and how stylish her hair looked tousled out like that. (It was bedhead, but she needn’t be corrected.) Amphitrite, on the other hand, seemed to have cut all her hair off. Buzzed short with shape only along the top and inky black, the style suddenly made her round face and wide shoulders seem all the more imposing. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, however, laden with dark makeup, crinkled in a friendly manner.

“Never did make it to your and Sera’s graduation, but I was talkin’ to your mum at the grocery store and she’d taken pictures of you two. The tassle-hat is a good look for you, Sapphy!” Amphitrite cocked a jean-clad hip to the side and made herself comfortable against the staircase bannister as Sapphire hung up her coat, smiling fondly. “Overnight shift at the U-Store, you know how it is. It’s always a Saturday night someone wants to take a pair of bolt cutters and see what joyridable vehicles they can pull out of storage. Tried to take the time off, but Chrys already had things booked way in advance, the bitch. Not sure my angel wanted me there anyhow.”

The loud thumping of heels down the hallway announced another presence, and something in Amphitrite’s face became fragile with the knowledge that her daughter was watching them both from the corner of her eye where the kitchen loomed; the clunks of drinks being pulled from the refrigerator didn’t delude either woman into thinking Seraphina wasn’t paying attention.

“Look, now, I think Sera’s lookin’ to head out on the town tonight, and I’ve given her a little spending money to play with,” the woman murmured, reaching to pat Sapphire gently on the arm, “Y’mind keeping an eye on her? Responsible kid like you knows when the keys should be swapped for a cab.”

“Not stupid, Amp,” came the exasperated bark of the eavesdropper above them, and Amphitrite’s gaze dropped to sit somewhere near Sapphire’s hip. Sapphire smiled tightly and took the commentary for a call; a glass bottle of green soda was dropped into her hands as Sera lead the tense march back to her bedroom, the frosty condensation making her fingers numb. 

Sapphire gently clicked the door shut behind herself as Seraphina dropped onto her computer chair and took a long swig of her bottle. The room was as familiar to Sapphire as her own bedroom at home, though Sera’s had long since been cleansed of the boyband posters of their childhood and plush toys with star-shaped SU tags. Some time before high school it had become Sera’s personal quest to make her sleeping space chic, and thus the bright flower bedspread had been traded for one of cream and rose gold, dotted with accent pillows striped and plain (and one large fluffy white one that Sapphire favoured cuddling, for nothing else in the room gave off any sort of personable comfort). A framed quote in scrawling cursive that read “Only The Strong Survive” gave the pale walls some life; a string of fairy lights behind Sera’s dresser mirror added whimsy to the otherwise bold glare of her perfectly stacked cherrywood jewelry boxes and the black hole of her walk-in closet. Though her family claimed no affluence, for security work only paid so much, Sera had taste in interior decorating, and an insistence that it be adhered to.

“So,” came the prompt, and Sapphire tensed a fraction as Seraphina stood to fish a well-used hairbrush from her dresser and run it through her ponytail with all the vivaciousness of someone crushing an invasive insect. Sapphire had been dreading this moment, this confrontation, since goodnights had been said the evening prior, and she’d spent hours reviewing the potential conversation with Whiz Lightspeed. Carefully she settled herself on the bed, disturbing only a single lonely green slipper, and held her breath. “I’m a little shocked, Sapphy, but pretty impressed, too. Didn’t think you had the tits for blowing someone off at a coffee shop.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Sera, it’s–”

“Apology accepted, babe, but only with deets,” the taller woman laughed, her voice suddenly much gentler, and took Sapphire’s fumbling silence as an opportunity to sit on the side of the mattress and start combing through her hair too. The dusty blond of her curls complained with every swipe. “So you meet this… what’s her name? Ruthie? And ditch your number one girlfriend for a stroll down Torrential Rain Boulevard. What’s she got that I don’t?”

The tone was all playfulness, and the fingers pulling borrowed bobby pins from her hair affectionate, but Sapphire’s anxiety built all the same, lost for how to explain her sudden interest in Ruby. What was the draw? They were funny, they made her question what she knew, they fed her boxed noodles and alternate theories on nostalgic cartoons? The most straightforward answer she could give was one that would see her likely bludgeoned with the black brush in Sera’s hands, tied in her walk-in closet and handed to a series of unlicensed therapists – that is, her three closest friends and their concerns – for the next week for constant questioning and reevaluation of her life choices. Would that even be such a bad thing?

“Hey.” A rough tug on the braid Sera was weaving woke Sapphire out of her trance for a moment, and she glanced back at her oldest friend with wide eyes. “You’re lookin’ a little white, there, baby blue. We’re cool, okay? I just wanna know if I should be making room for another dyke in this house the next time I have the girls over.”

Her tone was casual, soft, as if she were talking to a crying child that had just tipped her over her point of patience. It was meant to be an invitation, an offering to bring Ruby into the fold of Sapphire’s friendships and, conveniently, into the range of Sera’s unpolite questioning. She was not a fan of queer woman – her disdain of Amphitrite and her partner of three years made that clear – and there was something boiling under her kindness that felt rather like a threat. Swallowing thickly, Sapphire sighed away her tension and forced a small smile.

“No offence, but I don’t think you two would be bosom buddies,” she laughed, gut swimming. Sera snorted, and began tousling the braid she’d been been making. 

“Bosom nothing, I’d hope. I don’t wear push-up balconettes for chicks. There.” Sera rotated her friend’s shoulders slightly and repositioned herself to sit in front of Sapphire, tilting her head this way and that to assess the way her hair was falling. With a pin held between her lips, she pulled a few strands loose, and backcombed the section until she could twirl a curtaining curl over Sapphire’s right eye. Gentle manicured fingers tilted Sapphire’s chin up, and Sera departed for a key handful of makeup products from her unending stash.

“Where’d you two go, then? Nudi-Tea’s pretty much the only coffee shop in town that’s not full of old men smoking two packs for breakfast.”

“Oh,” Sapphire fumbled, thankful to have to close her eyes so Sera could begin smudging foundation over her cheeks and forehead, “We had… a literal walk in the park?”

“Not the greatest weather for that.”

“Not the best start to a coffee date, either,” Sapphire countered, scrunching her nose as the soft bristles of Sera’s overused powder brush swept across the middle of her face. “Thank you for covering for me, though. I didn’t mean to stay out as long as I did, and I don’t think Ruby has a car, so–”

“I’ve got your back, Sapphy, you know that. But I can’t say I’m not interested in where your new… friend took you. You didn’t go home at all, did you? Tell me you didn’t stay at her house?” A cool palm cupped her cheek. “You’ve gotta be careful, blue, it’s the close contact sort of stuff that gives them the space to start convincing you you’re one of them.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Sapphire hedged; Sera gestured indignantly at her own chest, eyebrows raising exasperatedly. 

“First year of high school? Normal mom. Three months in she does an overnight shift with some femme named Marina, stays one night at her place because of the weather, and next thing you know my house has become a carousel of gay all-you-can-eat and _Jade’s_ talking about moving in. Call me biased, but something about that feels like brainwashing.”

“Sera…”

“Look, hon, I’m just tryin’ to watch out for you. You’re a big girl and I can’t stop you making your own decisions,” – a final shade of eyeshadow was pat onto Sapphire’s left lid, the colour a mystery – “But something about this chick doesn’t sit right. She invites you on a date, calls you names, and then takes you home for the night? You’d better have slept on the couch!”

Sapphire nodded dumbly at the finger pointed between her eyes.

“Just… be careful, okay? I know how to comfort a bestie with a broken heart, but as my mom demonstrates, I’m no expert in pulling pretty girls out of situations like this.” Her voice once again became tender, and Sera tucked a flyaway hair behind Sapphire’s ear carefully. “Don’t let her hurt you, got that?”

The squirming feelings in Sapphire’s gut seemed to organize themselves in that moment, and congealed together as a relieved warmth. As off-colour as Seraphina’s assumptions, she had an idea of what was going on with her and Ruby, and was offering Sapphire the chance to figure it out herself. She had had Sapphire’s back for years, it was true – she had more than once defended Sapphire’s decisions, and steered her away from things she might have regretted later on. They had gone on double dates together and Sera had dropped her boy with only a scribbled phone number to save Sapphire from her own less than charming partner, lead her to the safest and easiest places to buy birth control when her periods had been painful and unpredictable and ruining the lovely skirts she’d spent good allowance money on, and always given her a bed to crash in and fluffy white pillow to hug when exams sent her into panic attacks. Seraphina was working in Sapphire’s best interests, and as crude as the woman could be, Sapphire trusted her for a reason. 

The anxious breath she’d been holding seeped out with all the noise and force of an air mattress deflating. Leaning forward to tuck her chin against her friend’s thin shoulder and wrap arms around her slender waist, Sapphire said, “Thank you, Seraphina.”

“No problem, baby,” came the enthusiastic chortle. Sera gave her a pat on the waist and pushed Sapphire back far enough to check that her hard work – even all over, with one smokey eye and full lips painted dark – hadn’t been smudged in the affection. “Just don’t ditch me without warning again, yeah? Also, Mum already said so, but I’m thinking The Burning Room tonight. You totally owe me still for covering for your bi-curious ass, and there are no exam-related excuses you can pull when you’re already sitting within reach of my closet. Yesterday’s outfit isn’t going to cut it.”

Sapphire grinned, and rolled her eyes half with ruefulness and half to start eyeing what new outfits Sera might have procured since their last outing. She was shorter, but considering Sera’s penchant for crop tops and elastic-waisted leggings, they might as well have shared a size.

One more sign they were meant to be in each other’s lives, Sapphire thought, disagreements aside. She wouldn’t expect much in the way of introspective conversation concerning her budding (budded?) feelings for Ruby, but Sera would be with her through the puzzle and to catch her if she fell, and she could trust that. The metallic sliding and clacking of hangers in the closet and Sera’s excited, much more lighthearted chattering about their impending night out began lulling Sapphire much like the lapping of water in the spa pool once had, and by the time they were tossing fabric over their heads and bantering about Sera finally, _finally_ choosing a pair of heels to match her outfit, the fear Sapphire had felt the entire walk to her best friend’s house had washed away like raindrops on the sunroof windows, out of mind and having cleared her view of the clouds.

The chirps of Sapphire’s phone were drowned out in the laughter, and the device found itself abandoned under a white fluffy pillow long after the two women left the house in their dance club best.


	11. Outliers and Outsiders

_I'm not a pretty machine in your assembly line_  
_Trying to do what I can, but it's terrifying_  
_I'm taking back all my things and my borrowed time_  
_This life is mine, this life is mine_

“My little Ru-Ru,” was what their mother had always cooed when they tucked in for sleep, be it in the crib they’d used until much too far into their development (but hadn’t grown fast enough to make the size problematic), the couch by her side after a rerun of her favourite movie, or outside on the deck in the late summer, where the sun had overwhelmed Ruby’s already warm constitution and left them baked as a lobster and intelligent as a brick. She would toss a worn, crocheted blanket some great-relative had made over their sprawled out form to keep the mosquitoes away, boop them on the nose, whisper her key phrase, and leave them to their own bug-bitten wakeup call. Their mother had murmured it into their hair when they’d come out to her, sobbing and terrified, had said it sardonically when they had waved awkwardly behind the nurse explaining how badly they’d broken their right leg, and sighed wistfully with a trace of their cheek when Ruby signed off on all the paperwork for their first apartment. The pet name might have been childish, but it was endearing, and said, “I love you,” in only slightly more syllables.

The titles Ruby’s daycare kids had come up with for them were generally less gentle and much more creative, but the imagination hardly made them sound any less like reprimand when the entire list was rattled off in various tones of disdain and shock. They too said, “I love you,” only with the lengthy suffix, “And so help me because you’re such a _butt_ sometimes.”

Maline looked taller than ever from this vantage point, arms crossed and glaring once she’d made Ruby sit on the single concrete step of the recreation center entrance. Trona had perched herself on a tree stump behind her, looming like an owl; the nearly-identical set of pranksters who’d come as a collection of sisters-from-other-misters (Amalia, Amy, Alondra, Aretha and Jay) were loudly discussing all the ways they were personally affronted by Ruby’s choices, and their littlest member, a redhead named Carrie, had literally turned her back and was adding to the conversation by yelling her two cents at the far wall. It was hard not to feel a bit like a pirate captain facing mutiny, especially when the unanimous decision seemed to be to cut Ruby down in a verbal guillotine without method to explain themself. Such were the woes of presenting the realities of the adult world to people still small enough to fold themselves into suitcases.

“There’s a perfectly good college right in town, Boobie!”

“You already get money for being here with us, so why you gotta go?”

“You should’a told us about this years ago, mister!”

“Only squarehead nerds take exams, Rube-Cube. We thought you were cool!”

“Rootie-Toots isn’t a mister, Amy.”

“You should’a told us a hundred years ago, you… person!”

“Nice.”

The guilty culprit shared a grin with the eldest of the A Squad, and Jay offered a fond eye-roll back before resuming the glares of her sisters. It was interesting how the children that had been with the rec center – and consequently Ruby – longest seemed to be most at ease with their announcement that they were moving out to Ocean Town at the end of the summer, perhaps because they understood that a half hour’s highway drive wasn’t quite as drastic as their littler counterparts were making it out to be. As far as the majority was concerned, Ruby could have announced they were disappearing next Sunday to build colonies on the moon.

Granted, firefighting was an art and trade far from anything Ruby was familiar with, so the analogy wasn’t totally off the mark. Perhaps one could compare dissolving squabbles between fifteen waist-high gremlins to putting out a blaze, or that becoming a human jungle gym for more monkeys than the nearest zoo counted as some sort of strength training for carrying the unconscious out of buildings. But for all non-metaphorical purposes, Ruby was driving blind and trying their very best to convince the busload of kids they were piloting that no one knew an airbrake and wide turns like they did. Which was a metaphor. Details.

“I’m not happy about it either–” they began, which set off offended shouting again. Ruby sighed, applied their best puppy eyes, and stared up at Maline pleadingly, who glared upsettedly back. Her skill at pouting had only expedited since toddlerdom; the tilt of her hip and heavy curve of her lips was firmly placed somewhere between the guilt-tripping abilities of childhood and disappointment of an adult woman. 

“Mal,” Ruby continued, addressing her personally, “You know how you want to be a fashion designer?”

“Or a jewelry artist!” Carrie shouted at the wall.

“Or a jewelry artist. Do you think you’re gonna be able to stay here in Excel and be as famous as you plan to? Gonna live here your whole life, and never live in any of the fashion capitals, or set up shop on a sunshine strip? How’s Alondra gonna play big league rugby if she never leaves the Beach City Brawlers? There’s only so many streets Bayley can sell lemonade on before she’s gonna need an actual building to create her empire with, right?”

Maline eyed Ruby’s outstretched hands skeptically, but the crowd overall seemed to have decided that expressing theoretical futures was now a game; Sardon excitedly burst from the crowd and wrapped herself over Ruby’s leg, squealing, “Me, Roo-Boo!”

“How is Sardon _ever_ going to become the world’s best, most talented, most witty comedian-slash-magician-slash-busker if only the boardwalk sees what she can do?” they grinned, scooping her up and standing her on their knees so she could address the other children with an elaborate bow. “And how will Carrie compete for street corners to perform against her on if they both stay in kindergarten forever?”

“Maybe we’ll perform here! We’ll make the kindergarten a circus!” 

“It already _is_ one,” drawled the tallest of the group, and the entire gathering laughed. Maline’s frown, however, increased with the sound, and she surveyed Ruby up and down as their shoulders shook. They couldn’t blame her her skepticism – as one of the longest-attending customers of the daycare, Mal’s history was a narrative Ruby knew much more in detail than some of the younger children, and her trust hadn’t been easily won. There was a reason the tall girl practically lived in Excel, and it had made her constantly guarded for lies and deception. Determined to give a better impression than the father who abandoned her here for fourteen hours every day of the week, Ruby reached out to take her hand gently, one arm still holding Sardon steady.

“And when I move to Ocean Town to train as a firefighter, it’s because it’s something I really, really want, and I believe I can do it, just like I believe that you’re all gonna accomplish everything you want to, too. I’m gonna go knowing I can come back and see you all any time, and that when I need to laugh or drink lemon water or get a couple of pretty heart-shaped necklaces for me and my wife, I can find the best of the best to help me, ‘cause I met them all here.”

They offered a gentle squeeze of Maline’s fingers as she began to cry. Concerned and curious, the crowd behind her washed forward like a wave, hands patting her back and shoulders and cooing reassurance. Carrie even gave up her staring contest with the white brickwork to hug Maline’s hip, though opted to still keep her back to the initial offender. Warmth bubbled up in Ruby and they wanted desperately to tell their kids how proud they were of them, and how sweet it was to see such unbridled affection and kinship between them all when at least half would never dare so much as kiss a parent goodbye. Instead, they tucked Sardon under their chin and said, “You wanna help make posters with my new phone number and address on them, so you guys can call me all the time?”

The suggestion of an arts and crafts activity, however slightly, created a wave of hoots of approval, and Maline gave the crowd a watery smile. Ruby had yet to actually secure a position of employment in the city, and their apartment address was as dependent on that as their ability to save up a deposit when their current work was only part-time (and underpaid, in their opinion, but they liked their charges too much to give it up, and, to be fair, the program suffered a financial quandary itself), but they had a cell phone number and a head of hair that was fun to draw, and that seemed to be enough for most of the children. They’d taken it upon themselves to make wanted posters on various colours of construction paper, all emblazoned with Ruby’s name followed by either a hand-drawn caricature or a cutout from a magazine of a generic black woman, and listed beneath everything from their nicknames to favourite colour, followed finally by blank spots for their proper contact information. Sardon and another young member of the team took it upon themselves to conduct the flyer-pasting charge; any and all arguments on placement were vetoed by a newer inductee who’d quickly risen through the preschool hierarchy and acquired, for her pessimism, the nickname “Holly Blue”. Ruby shooed them off with relief and sprawled on the dusty linoleum with a sudden guilt on their chest.

Like guards around a monarch, Ruby soon found themself comfortably sharing silence with four of the longest-standing Excel students, each propped in their own bubbles, with the exception of Jay and Alondra, who had sprawled against each other and were, respectfully, poking the other in the cheek and sproinging a lock of curly hair.

For a long pause, it was only the echoing sounds of children playing and the odd crunch of gravel as a car rolled up outside to collect their miscreants that stuttered through the white noise around them. Maline huffed quietly and rubbed her eyes; Jay yelped as Alondra bit her finger.

“What are we supposed to do without you, Rubes?”

Heat met their back as another spine propped itself against theirs, and Ruby sighed as dark curls spilled over their shoulder. They couldn’t inculpate the kindergartners for their melodramatics; many had been here since the age of four and were now reaching the end of middle school, and had had Ruby’s attention and company the whole while. Rarely had another mentor been by their side to help foster the children here – a sour experience with identical roughhousing twins who’d become more a part of the hassle than useful help had put Petra Cullinan on guard against hiring anyone Ruby had not specifically recommended. Which, naturally, left them with a burden to shoulder for the lack of persons they felt could do the job right. Their old babysitter, perhaps, but she’d gone on to bigger things years ago.

“Same thing you guys do every day,” they replied, “Play Shark, watch the squirts, harass your daycare provider into climbing into the nearest closet to cry.”

“You’ve never done that, you ham.”

“And you’re out of the closet.”

“Har-har.” Ruby rolled their eyes and scratched fingers through Smokey’s hair. “I know this isn’t cool, guys, but I can’t do this forever. I’m a big kid now, gotta start adulting.”

Hums of relent ran through the group and faded back into easy quiet. There was something about this older crowd of children that had matured faster than Ruby ever did, that understood nothing was forever and promises could be dropped as priorities shifted. There was a cynicism in the air they could taste, one that left both their tongue and psyche feeling bitter. Certainly the four here hadn’t expected Ruby to stay forever as their leader and guardian, but perhaps there was a muffled hope that they could be first to move on, not left behind by yet another adult.

“Tell us about your plans?” Alondra asked, breaking the awkward peace with a surprisingly gentle question. All eyes turned to her in surprise, and the deep purple birthmark on her cheek crinkled as she sneered back. Jay snorted. Relieved and amused, Ruby shifted to push their sneaker against Alondra’s and play an idle game while they spoke.

“Gotta finish reading a massive textbook and do a test, first, and then get my ass hired by the fire department. I’m thinking of looking at the 50 series of stations. They’re closer to the shore and to the highway, where I can come see you guys easily. Sometimes they get called out to emergencies in Beach City, too, where the 40 series are – no, Smokey, that’s not an excuse to start kerosene-bombing abandoned lots.”

“Yeah,” Alondra added, back to her usual snark, “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

“The apartment around there aren’t too bad. Mostly highrise–”

“Pfft, as if Ocean Town has highrises. You’ve never been to Jersey, have you?”

“Ruby’s a simple country hick. They can’t handle the thrills and violence of real city slickers.”

“Your faith in me is astounding,” Ruby deadpanned. “I can get pretty decent bachelor apartments for probably, like, half my wages, anyway, so–”

“Wait, hold on,” Maline said, finally joining the conversation in a sudden burst of energy that had her leaning off the wall and staring Ruby down with a laser leer, “What do you mean, a _bachelor?_ ”

“It’s a type of apartment where your bed’s in the living room, Mal,” Jay offered, but was waved off.

“Rube-Cube, you have a _girlfriend_.”

“ _No_ , Miss Watermalon, I have a new friend who I had a botched coffee date with once.”

“Um, hello, we didn’t hear about this.”

“It’s how things always go with abandonment. First they keep secrets, then they lie, then they move to small towns with their big city dreams and hook up with secret lovers.” Alondra began to cackle as Ruby gave her foot a perturbed kick and jostled Smokey from her comfortable recline against their back. “Just sayin’, Roo, you’re not exactly building’ faith when you don’t tell your closest friends how your hot dates go.”

They made to argue, but couldn’t find the proof that this squad of four, younger at least by five years, didn’t constitute the majority of Ruby’s social group. For all that they were technically a babysitter, the forced maturity most of the kindergarten kids had gone through and amount of time they spent with each other had forged something beyond the bond of a councilor and camp. Perhaps it wasn’t a social norm to spill intimate life woes upon middle schoolers, but neither were the pacts between these kids that spanned across teenage castes; Jay had become the glue between her estranged sisters and raised them into a compassionate mob, and Alondra now had a reason to use her strength and excessive height in the protection of the younger kindergartners she and her siblings walked home. Maline, an only, lonely child, grew charitable and cheerful with Alondra nearby. Smokey, sweet and fat, had never once experienced a tease about her size since relocating to Beach City from out west, because her defensive companions had encouraged her extroversion (and also thrown that nasty Kevin fellow into the riverbank for the opinions he’d offered). Though they fit neatly into categories of Diva, Dumpling, Mother and Brute, they’d tamped and torn down the walls of class that would have separated them long before they realized it was good. Helpfully, they had also ignored the divisions of age, and Ruby was, perhaps as a Runt, a firm member of their bizarre quintet.

Fair, then, that they wanted to be kept in the loop about their oldest member’s love life.

“Had two bad dates at the local brew, had a really classy time eating boxed noodles and watching cartoons. Stopped in here and she met you. That’s it, that’s all you missed.”

The collective exasperated silence and four sets of eyes watching them sulk only encouraged Ruby’s discomfort, but they couldn’t help the snort of laughter when Smokey solemnly patted them on the head.

“But you’re bringing her back, right?” Maline prompted, taking up the floor space that Ruby’s bare legs had cleaned of dust and giving Alondra’s feet another opponent. “She said she’d braid my hair. Fancy braids, Jayjay, not the wicked good French ones you do.”

Ruby considered, for a moment, their promise to ask Sapphire, however insincerely, if she wanted a job at the kindergarten.They recalled how widely she’d smiled, the bubbling giggles their preschoolers had brought out of her. Ruby’s kids had bonded themselves together and to them in combinations unexpected – maybe being in their presence would help Ruby’s chances with Sapphire, too.

“Yeah, Mal, I’ll bring her back.”

Outside, a heavy truck bounced over the train tracks with too much speed; the reverberating sound was familiar enough to the company to elicit no flinches. To Ruby, it rang as ominous as a clap of thunder.


	12. Bisexuals Are From Jupiter

_There's impenetrable silence inside of my head_  
_There's nothing I can vibe with, I'm practically dead_  
_I get so tired of writing everything I should have said_  
_That maybe this time I'll put my pen down and just tell you instead_

Her first indication that this wasn't necessarily going to be a good night should have been the stumbling drunkard at the front door. Sapphire wasn't surprised that a fair amount of the patrons in line for the Burning Room Cabaret were already quite tipsy, as it was customary for most (especially the socially uncomfortable) to pre-drink before hitting a dance floor lest they be aware of potential eyes watching and judging them, but this woman had perhaps seen a few more bars than the rest. She had given up on standing completely, and was instead being held upright by two male friends, one of which was leaning as far from her as possible so as not to be struck by the beer bottle still in her grasp. She shouted a rude comment towards another body in line, laughed loudly, and then let her head loll and for all intensive purposes could very well have gone unconscious. The bouncer shrugged and waved her in with a rumble of, “Whatever, she's a girl.”

Had her high heels not prevented a sneaky and quick escape, Sapphire might have followed the instructions of her gut and hightailed it away immediately. But their turn to show IDs had come, the night was chilly in her thin jacket, and Sera was smiling in that charming way Sapphire had never been able to resist. With a soft sigh, she presented her hand for entry stamping.

She had been to the Burning Room before, and rarely did the décor or DJs change. The entire building seemed to be going for the theme of “rave basement” with its low, black ceiling and visible ventilation and plumbing pipes. Dated strands of tube lights wrapped the angles of the room, obnoxiously bathed in the neon smoke of their own glow and the breath of dancers. Four separate bars were tucked into the walls, their attendants, dressed in black, as hard to spot as the cabinets of liquor behind them. Sera always favoured the one farthest from the door, by the bathrooms (which were promoted as The Place You Do Not Go due to the rumoured sexcapades and heroin-shooting behind their swinging doors), whereas Sapphire rather liked the bar closest to the exit, where the bartenders saw mostly people confusing them for the coat check, and with whom she could almost hold a conversation, as long as they both shouted as hard as they could. With a quick gesture Sera took off for one of the booze caves between, and Sapphire let herself become a blue wallflower before a sea of bodies.

Despite the grime of the place – because it was impossible to truly keep a dance club clean once young adults waltzed (twerked?) in – the cabaret had its charm. Something about the age of the place had given it character that the employees seemed to take pride in, and though it was rare any furniture was updated, one could be assured that the toppling patrons fell from their chairs of their own drunken accord, and not because the black leather stools had any screws coming loose. Groups of resting teenagers sat propped on said seats, arms and drinks resting on round counters that ringed the stanchions that held up the ceiling, and the tile below them hosted bouncing dust bunnies in the wake of their dancing. Sapphire watched them with glazed eyes; the bouncing lights of the huge disco ball on the ceiling prevented her focus on any one person, and the spinning colours bathing the moshing crowd seemed to multiply their bodies into indistinguishable numbers, like some fused, barely-humanoid cluster. The DJ tucked against the low roof was no more than a shadow with an upside down visor on its head and a skirt of glittering streamers. The low bass of his remix made her chest vibrate in sync, and the chiptune melody nipped at her ears incessantly. Catchy.

Soft white noise it wasn't, but the atmosphere in the Burning Room was somewhat meditative, in a way. Sapphire could very easily have drifted off to sleep against the cool black wall, skin bathed in sporadic icy breezes from the entryway, protected by the employees in close proximity, who, unlike the bouncer at the door, had proven in past experience to be much more sensible and less likely to put up with things that could get people hurt and their business sued.  


Alas, as a pretty woman in a short dress and close friend to a party-harder, Sapphire wasn't exactly shocked to have that daydream interrupted. Sera returned with a frothing Cosmopolitan at the same moment a man with a body like a Morito chip offered his hand for a dance, and Sapphire's participation was decided for her.

The tall, dark, and handsome fellow took her waist before her hand.

At one point in her life, Sapphire had taken dance classes. Certainly the moves weren't of much use here, being as she had primarily practiced classical ballet, but her parents hadn't been too particular on which other styles she dabbled in, and over the years she'd picked up more than a few ways to mash together hip hop, tap, and the dramatics of a pirouette. The cramped quarters of the club, however, were hardly the place to show them off, and she had little interest in trying to impress her dance partner, who was paying more attention to the dip in her cleavage than anything else. Sapphire stuck to swaying her hips back and forth, arms outstretched in a pose that suggested flirtation but effectively preserved her personal bubble, and perused through the crowd instead.

There were unidentifiable swarms of people at the front of the room, a long-legged man who seemed to be impersonating a chicken in his dancing, and sets of women grinding on each other while men around them hooted (one of which had completely bent over and left only her ass to bob in the air). A boy at one of the tiny benches smiled at her from under his sunglasses and sipped at a cola. Sera was whipping her long hair back and forth as she rode the thigh of her own cornchip-shaped man. Sapphire abruptly wished she had some sort of alcohol numbing her brain.

Her opportunity came in the form of a scrawny boy who accidentally bumped her and pressed his hand briefly to her shoulder in apology. His bright white smile beamed from under a long curtain of black hair, startling her to pause. The moment he turned his back to her, he had tapped another woman's arm gently and gestured something like a request before joining her in dancing; to her surprise, he took the hand of a portly sort of fellow a few minutes later and gathered him into the dance too. Sandwiched between a redhead in a little black dress and a man with a body like a powerlifter, the skinny boy seemed to be comfortable as could be. With a laugh drowned out by the music, he reached a hand up to cup the larger man's neck and invite his hips for groping. The invitation was taken gleefully.

Sapphire couldn’t help but stare. Her own movements slowed to a robotic stutter as the boy danced, her lack of coordination deterring several partners before they were even within decent reach, all who had beelined for her behind after the initial man left. Though the pulsing lights made it difficult to keep a solid view of his expression, the fractals Sapphire saw between blinks of darkness offered her a curious thought: he was watching her back.

It was as one song began transitioning to another that the boy seemed to act on the deep stares he was giving her under his eyelashes. The man and woman he had been with turned away to find new friends, confirming that he had been the mutual interest between them, and Sapphire balked as he smoothly slipped out of the space between partners and towards her instead. But as with his gentle invitations for the former two, the boy held himself at a distance from her, and offered his hands, palms up.

His hips still swiveled as if the music itself were pulling them to and fro. Bemused, Sapphire carefully closed the gap.

She half wondered if the boy had picked up on her stilting movements and assumed an inability to dance, because he guided her through gestures that were much more the speed of children at a wedding banquet than a drunk raver at a club. Sapphire found herself spun in circles, wound into and out of his wide-armed embrace like a yo-yo, and their fingers clasped and waving by their shoulders as they stepped a bouncy salsa. The absurdity made her smile, and then laugh, and colour filled her cheeks in a way she wasn’t sure was entirely due to the exercise.

Sapphire had lost track of the shifts between records and how many songs had passed by before the boy slowed, fanned a hand at his face, and gestured towards the nearest wall-bar with an inquisitive eyebrow-wiggle. Hesitancy held her back for only a moment; Sapphire took in the still-grinding dancers in a tight circle around her, and the hungry looks a couple were shining her way, and happily followed the boy out of the throng.

He held her hand the entire walk to the bar, waved an inviting hand as if to say, “Want anything? My treat,” and gave a hearty laugh – drowned out in the music – and a thumbs up as a bottle of dark stout was thumped in front of her. They wound up curved concrete steps laced in fairy lights onto the higher landing, and sprawled into chairs in a far corner. The slight distance from and above the DJ’s sound system offered them enough room to hear each other, though it was still a few tries before Sapphire realized the boy was offering his name, not saying hello.

“Io,” she finally understood, when he tapped his chest expressively, like a scrawny man of the apes. Grinning she mimed back, “Sapphire.”

His eyebrows flew into his hair, and the boy leaned in to ask, “Ruby’s Sapphire?”

“Um,” she supplied awkwardly, “I do know a Ruby, yes.”

“Io,” he repeated, flourishing his arms as if he were a prize on a game show and the prize-revealing celebrity all at once, “Number one bestie to the curlytop Rube Cube you’ve recently made nice with. I’m sure they’ve told you loads about me? Did you bring that mouse along? They spend way too much time in their basement. Kid needs to get out, and get with, if you know what I’m saying. Though they’ve clearly already found a winner.”

Sapphire nodded dumbly, wondering whether she should mention that her new friend hadn’t spoken of anyone named Io to her. Then again, it was improbable that they were talking about two different gay, curly-headed Rubys, and to be fair, she hadn’t given Ruby much time to talk about themself, mostly due to all her intense questioning. Uncomfortable shame burnt in Sapphire’s gut. The boy took a pleased sip of his cocktail.

“I came here with my friend Sera,” she said eventually, tracing a finger around the rim of her beer bottle and nodding a head at the crowd below when Io’s head tilted in question. He propped his chin on a hand and stared out at the multicolour mosh pit fondly, scanning as if he were going to see a woman holding a giant blinking arrow. It wasn’t hard to assume the boy practically lived at this place, given the way he blended into the furniture like another part of the obnoxious décor; he had woven through the crowd during their escape with the fluidity of a veteran, and the bartender had given him a wink and started mixing before he’d fully reached the counter, smile blossoming. Io seemed to have that effect, Sapphire noticed – the cabaret worked with him as if he were a mobile light display himself, pulling amusement and brightness wherever in the building he moved. Even the corner they’d chosen to sit seemed to be glittering more now that he’d pulled the attention into its otherwise unoccupied fold.

Io raised his eyebrow at her, scoffing, “Haven’t heard the best about that dame.” A puff of indignation in Sapphire’s chest was smothered with the curiosity at the elasticity of Io’s forehead. Still, she gave her best effort to defend her friend.

“Hey, no hatin’, she hasn’t wronged me any,” the boy replied, fluttering his fingers in dismissal, “But where was she when you were dancing with the frat boy? Who, by the way, is way too young for you, and to be here in the first place. Told Mox at the counter, so you should be good when you head back out to the dance floor, BT dubs.”

“Um, thank you. Sera’s still dancing, I think.”

“Rule numero uno of dance club is to always communicate where you’re at in dance club,” Io scolded, drumming playfully on the table. “So I can tag team with you until we find her, if that tickles your fancy. Or you can shoot her a text? Either way, don’t think you should keep flying solo, carat.”

“Carrot?”

“Carat. The measure of gemstones? Nevermind, joke lost.” 

Some part of Sapphire wondered whether she should be more guarded of this boy, who was effectively a stranger to her, as a self-proclaimed friend of a friend, but he clearly had a strong grip on the ability to charm. She hid a giggle behind her palm and followed his gaze out across the crowd, willing – though not particularly motivated – to locate her missing compatriot. Eyes lazily scanning, Sapphire pondered the likelihood that Io would continue to dance with her should she introduce he and Sera, and if their introduction was a good thing in the first place, and whether he could likewise seduce her with his animated eyebrows and unabashed theatrics. A dark simmer of certainty found its place in the boiling pot of her stomach when she imagined Sera’s reaction should Io magnetically attract another two partners of different genders to sway with.

Either Io could read minds, or he’d had other plans to begin with.

“I’m hitching a ride out of here in, like,” the bright glow of a cellphone illuminated his face from below, temporarily blinding them both, and Sapphire sat blinking purple squares out of her vision as he finished, “ten minutes or so? Our mutual fave recluse is my DD. You and the ditcher need a lift?”

Sapphire’s great desire to leave shortly after arriving battled her discomfort with strangers, and her obligation to Sera’s party hard mentality cut both challengers down in one fell swoop. Shaking her head, she stood and looked out over the crowd again, steeling her nerves for another dive into the pool of grabbing limbs and assaulting shoulders. Whether or not she was ready to bail, she had a duty to protect everyone else from Sera should something set her off in her inebriated state. It had been the job thrust upon her since the day her friend had turned twenty-one, appreciated heavily by Amphitrite and their mutual friends alike, though Sapphire honestly felt it was more because her taking the Mom Friend role meant Eme and Sodali could continue to rock out without babysitting. 

Sapphire’s experience in holding back hair from a vomit festival meant nothing to her queasy stomach as she squeezed Io’s hand farewell and wedged herself back into the crowd. 

Finding Sera wasn’t the trouble. Her pale hair and height had her standing out like a beacon in the mass, crowned with flickering green lights.The loud catcalls were a good indicator as well. Sapphire did have to admit some surprise at the thick wall of male bodies she had to push through, though. Her taller friend might have had a talent for attracting free drinks and shameless flirting, but generally it was a one-at-a-time deal. Several of the men took Sapphire’s appearance as an invite and tried to pull her into embraces or offer the special, unappreciated sort of flattery that made her skin crawl; she wiggled on, however, eyes hunting for Sera and blurring past the rest of the faces on the way. Against common sense, she shouted for the woman as well. Chiptune answered, completely unhelpful.

It was with her final hip-check into a man built like a linebacker that Sapphire realized it wasn’t only the music distracting her friend, nor was it the gaggle of teenage douchebags swarming her on all sides. Her voice withered and crumbled like ash onto her tongue, and for a moment she barely registered the large hand that had made itself comfortable on the small of her back, until, “Hey, right on, you know them! Get in there!” boomed into her ear and she was being thrust into the eye of the storm.

“Eyyy, no kidding! Only thing hotter than two girls is three!”

“Go on, bitch! Put them lips to use!”

It was at first the shove to her spine that had Sapphire tripping in her high heels, but the shock was what truly took her down. She teetered for a moment and then fell onto one knee, like some mockery of a knight bowing to his queen in reverence, hands splaying out to catch herself. From her position on the dirty floor she slowly lifted her gaze, desperate to see but terrified, and hardly noticed the long strands of her hair sectioning her vision into distinct frames. On each side were hollering men, alcohol in hand, all neon silhouettes made of flashing lights. Before her, what was left of her beer bottle had splattered, reflecting a sight that clashed so horrendously with every soft fantasy she had ever imagined that her stomach roiled. Her most secret thrills were being put on display with fraudulent actors and an audience of objectifiers, degraded into cheap, drunk entertainment. 

A long, plush leg hoisted over a curvaceous hip. Polished nails knotted in styled curls. Breasts and bellies pressing close, a neckline slipping. Lipstick-lined mouths and tangling tongues giving life to embellished, feminine moans. 

Seraphina sucking face with another woman for the amusement of men.

The room warped, the music stopped. Sapphire saw red, and fled so forcefully that the crowd staggered back and parted like a sea.


	13. Halfway House For Hesitant Homos

_I don't wanna call my friends_  
_I don't wanna hit the bar_  
_I don't wanna do it_  
_I don't wanna do it_

“Rubes! My main no-man, my darned dressy DD, my favourite fancy frendo from another fam, how _is_ your night going? If ever I locate a better ride on Superb, it’ll be the day Beach City desertifies.” 

“Get in the car, Io.” 

“Another winning pickup line! It’s a wonder you don’t get more dates.” With an enthusiastic slap to the vehicle’s roof, the young man spilled into the worn shotgun seat of Ruby’s father’s car, a rusty red Dondai Metro that was nearly as old as its occupants. It still had working lights and air conditioning, though the dusty smell that huffed through the vents when the latter was turned on left it unused except in the most desperate of situations. The corduroy seating was pilling from the friction of thousands of rounds of butts and backs, and the seatbelts tended to lock unprompted, but the engine purred like a kitten (if an asthmatic one) and it had been a hand-me-down with the low, low price tag of ‘free’. Io was as familiar with the four-door as he was his best friend, so the quirks didn’t bother him – besides, he had plenty of his own quirks to be appreciated for what they were.

Ruby reached over his body as he kissed them on the cheek to pull his seatbelt to his attention, as doting as a protective parent but as callous as one woken at 2AM. They drummed the steering wheel impatiently as he fumbled with the locking mechanism. 

“So, word on the street–”

“You mean ‘Mox told me’,” Ruby interrupted, hitting the blinker and checking over their shoulder for oncoming traffic.

“Mox told _me,_ Rubeo, not you, that the best animated series of the last twenty-two years got itself a re-release, and I know my fave moleperson has all two hundred thirteen episodes on lockdown and ready for mine virgin eyes. I’m thinking Wednesday? You don’t have a job so I assume you aren’t busy.” 

Io’s feet had made themselves comfortable over the center of the car dash, his seat already reclined as if he were hiding his presence from the jaywalkers stumbling past the windows. His thin fingers played with the zipper of his coat in a rhythm almost parallel to the pulse of Ruby’s jaw as they chewed the inside of their cheek, huffing. Though with practice and pure luck his lithe body had learned to handle alcohol well, the substance had the effect of making him all the more obnoxious than usual. Or perhaps he just acted if it did. Whatever the case, both persons were well used to the post-bar banter that every second or so Saturday of the month offered.

“What part of, ‘I am the parental figure for a herd of gremlins that resemble humans four days of the week’ did you miss?”

“None of it, but that’s hardly work when you’ve got Cullinan scaring the piss out of them. Anyone’d watch their manners with her around. Also, RC, you’re off Wednesdays. Your magnet of Mayor D’s not the only pretty face looking at your schedule on the fridge.”

“He’s a lot damn quieter.”

“Like knives, these harsh words!” Io threw himself sideways over the emergency brake, drumming Ruby’s thigh until they swatted him away, then abruptly sobered, folding his hands in his lap and glancing at them as a businessman would his freshman intern. “Your Sapphire’s a good dancer, did you know?”

The car swerved dangerously as Ruby’s arm jerked; Io casually brushed his hair back behind his ear as they righted the situation with a loud curse and stuttered breath. 

“Io,” they hissed, glancing quickly from his face to the oncoming road with wide eyes, “Are you seriously saying she was there? Tell me you weren’t your usual charming self and getting her roped into things because I swear to god–”

“Danced like a lady,” he replied placatingly. “She did too. We were the chaste preteens of that dance floor. Lots of room for the Lord and lots of jive in that booty. I see why you dig her.”

“I’m leaving you on this upcoming corner. Take your seatbelt off.”

“Why, I’m appalled! Safety should be a first priority in an antique like this!” Mutual laughter, though more visual on Ruby’s frustrated smile than audible, filled the vehicle as they battled over the buckle on Io’s belt, knowing full well that the shotgun spot was a challenge to unlock even with direct and even pressure on its release button. A car behind them gave an irate honk as they drifted to a crawl, and Ruby quickly increased the pressure they’d been letting off on the gas pedal. Their battle having finished in a draw left the two at an armistice; Io took to fiddling with the dials on the radio to occupy his hands. The volume shifted, then the base and treble, then the fade, back and forth until Ruby slapped his arm. If there was but one thing the Dondai’s occupants had in common besides their deep and nostalgic love for action-adventure cartoons starring women, it was fidgeting. 

Strange that for such a mutual tick they both presented differently; Io wanted only to keep moving, to be as energetic and expressive in all his moments as he was when performing, whether on stage or in local parks. He was well-known as an actor who lived for sidekick roles, for being the bouncing comedic relief or fast-talking accomplice. Making his every endeavour animated was part and parcel of his immersion and life-giving to his casted parts. 

But also just a habit.

He lacked Ruby’s furious anxiety and overthinking, so never were his fingernails bitten away or leather flakes picked off one bit at a time from his wallet until it was nothing but bald canvas. Instead, Io had thousands of things started and stopped, left teetering on the edge of becoming something remarkable, a Rombix cube half-solved and perpetually waiting for the same set of hands to shuffle its colours. As long as another project found its way into his interest, there would be no judging eyes upon the unfinished business, save perhaps by his doting, but displeased, grandparents. Continual movement meant continual change, and thus no possible boredom with his presence.

He began winding the window crank by his knees forward and back to the beat of the music, just enough that the top bit of the glass let sips of cool air into the vehicle to ruffle his hair. 

“So…” 

“I introduced myself, yes,” Io supplied, hearing the five separate but related questions fumbling on Ruby’s tongue before they’d finished articulating, “We danced for a while, had a drink together, flirted, kissed, and I scored her number before our sweet parting.”

The driver squawked indignantly. Io threw a gum wrapper at them he’d picked up off the vehicle floor, rolling his eyes at their gullibility.

“C’mon, Ruby Red, that girl’s got no eyes for queer guys. You should’ve seen her avoiding the straight ones.” Stiff arms wildly rotated around Io’s personal bubble, a robotic parody of Sapphire’s dancing. Colour began filling the vacancy in Ruby’s cheeks once again, and they chuckled awkwardly. “How come she wasn’t hitting up the club with you, though? You told me you had a date! She’s gay, you’re gay, the BR Cabaret is full of gays, it’s a perfect night for being overexerted and sweaty under flashing lights and then macking in the alley.”

“Surprise, one date doesn’t mean an instant partner.”

“Could mean a return performance, though. I ask you every week to come dancing with me, and this time you could’ve had me and the company of another lovely gemstone girl.”

“Io.”

“Sorry. The company of _a_ gemstone girl. What gives, buttercup?” Ruby shrugged, swinging the car mindlessly down the subdivision Io’s grandparents’ stylized 1970s bungalow had been planted in. Their fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, nails picking into the burgundy leather that was stitched onto it with white cord. Io’s polished oxfords slipped under the rubber floor mat and flipped the edges back and forth, giving the quiet music a secondary bass. He hummed thoughtfully as a memory came to mind, adding, “You did say something about her ditching you for some tall blond stranger, if the recollection of our distant phone call serves. Lose another one, master fisher?”

“Remind me why I drive you around again,” was the deadpan reply as Ruby swung the car onto the sharp angle of their destination driveway and yanked the emergency brake. Thumbs piled on top of one another without prompt, and the friends pushed hard down on the lock of Io’s seatbelt so he could leave.

“My charming conversational skills, of course. Adds spice to your bland nights. I’m the hot sauce to your cheesy mac. The bacon drips to your bonfire. The bottom to your curly top.” He ruffled Ruby’s pillowy hair as they cringed, smacking his hip in an order to get out. “Alright, not that one. Point bein’, Rubes, I’m your wingman and a wee bit more experienced than you at getting laid. You might wanna listen to me once in a while.”

Words left Ruby in a deflated puff of air. The steering wheel became particularly interesting as Io shut the door and fluffed his coat up around his ears, only to pull it open again before the car could back away, adding, “Seraphina’s not a threat, on that note. I creeped her on Facespace. She’s so straight her posture couldn’t get any better if you pulled the three foot stick out of her ass. I know that ain’t what you’re worried about, but what I’m tellin’ you is you’ve got a chance to show Little Miss Sapphire what she’s missing just by bein’ yourself, only extroverted. Think about it.”

“Yeah,” Ruby sighed, head thumping back against the headrest. “Thanks, Moonboy.”

The drive home was more or less trekked in silence, deafening when compared to the constant jabber and jostling Io had provided. The three radio stations Beach City received in perfect clarity were all in the middle of long commercial breaks, and the one additional channel that wasn’t head-pounding dance music pumped in from Jersey was fuzzy, and the work of some local kook mumbling about aliens and public broadcasting being overtaken by a sentient stone government. Ruby twisted the dials so the sound came only from the back speakers and pretended the irritating voice of the conspiracy theorist was something they could speed away from. 

Streetlamps flashed above them in pulsing rhythm, blinding as they whipped luminescence across the Dondai’s red hood and ghosted across Ruby’s chest. Their fingers began tapping a beat across the steering wheel, coaxed by the light, and the rants from the radio turned to poetry, far behind the speeding rubber and rushing to catch up. The driver inhaled the music and exhaled a cloud of thought.

If they’d gone, would The Burning Room have felt like this soft trance through a black street, this building need to sway their head gently and rock their hips? This echo of sound in the back of their mind, this tempo their hands could feel? Could they have mustered up the courage to follow Io into the pulsing coloured lights of his haunt and found a white noise peace among the stifling crowd? Would they be able to hear their heart pound past the bass if Sapphire took their hand and pulled them into the throng, guided it to her waist, traced the pulse in their neck and the hollows of their throat? If she brushed her glossed lips against theirs and fluttered the lashes of her phantom eye, pressed herself down on the notch of their thigh and rolled forward, inward, circular taunts disguised as dance, her short skirt riding up and– 

Coughing bubbled up amongst the embarrassment as Ruby choked on the daydream, and they drilled their eyes back to the road. The curving street to their apartment was a welcome sight; the screeching of the car’s tires into the rocky driveway started a routine that distracted their brain from its dangerous tangents. They checked each roll-down window and manual lock on the vehicle and gave the driver’s door handle a yank to be sure it had sealed. Their left hand flipped the keys around their master ring in a new rhythm as they crunched towards the front door and booted it with their foot. The chain lock was an afterthought, the hanger they slung their coat on a bare effort, and the method by which their shoes were removed a complete disregard. Clothes peeled off like autumn leaves ripped by sudden winds, thrown onto the kitchen floor, across the couch, onto the chipboard excuse for a coffee table. By the time their bed had become available, Ruby was down to a black bralette and baggy Hello Froggy boxers Io had bought them the previous year as a birthday present.

Sleep was about to make itself a companion of their brain when Whiz Lightspeed announced a loud 3AM update and a loud rapping came from the thin wood of the front door.

Ruby checked their phone first, but found no texts announcing late night emergency visits. No flashing police lights lit the curtains of their bedroom window. Cautiously they pulled on a baggy tee shirt from the assortment on the floor and waited to see if the visitor would realize they had the wrong apartment and leave, but the knocking persisted, if with pauses between as the stranger alternated between tapping the door and tiny nearby kitchen window. Ruby crept past the refrigerator and snatched up a giant butcher’s fork from the dish drying rack, reasoning that removing a pot would create too much noise. They tried standing tiptoe to look through the dusty glass their sudden company had been knocking on, but without luck. Taking a steadying breath, they tugged the door open as far as the chain lock would let it go, and peered out.

“Boobie? I mean, Rob– Ru-Ruby, hello, hi, sorry.”

Quickly Ruby slammed the door and fumbled with the lock. Yanking it open again nearly launched them into the closet as the swollen wood stuck and resisted, but they regained footing soon enough to see Sapphire turning away, one hand combing through her bangs and a panic in her wide eyes that seemed a little to the side of wild. Disorientation froze them both for a moment.

“Can I come in?” she asked, voice small, the same moment they squeaked, “Come in!” and reached for her hand. Backing up enough to let the door close and the girl enter without tripping on shoes proved a challenge; Sapphire steadied them by the arm as they both awkwardly danced into a balanced position.

Eight or so questions crowded the exit of their throat. Sapphire glanced from the massive two-pronged utensil in their fist to their face, then to her own hands, clutching at their elbow.

Trembling palms were on their cheeks and a tongue in their mouth before Ruby had a chance to blink.


End file.
